Imprisoned By The Shadows
by Silverstar
Summary: When a system fails, Thunderbird 4 is trapped underwater with no way of communicating with anyone. Until Gordon boards another submarine - to find it deserted - with only the lights working. But something seems to have boarded with him and how do you get out of a situation when you can't even see your own enemy?
1. Chapter 1

_**Okay, hello if you just started reading, but if you've been reading this story from when I first started writing it, them you'll notice that this chapter has been updated, and rewritten a lot. Seriously, I was not happy with the first version so I re-wrote it. In fact, I re-wrote the entire story for a contest (which I didn't win, in case you were wondering) and I preferred the result to the original version. So I'm posting this to replace the first version.**_

_**Review again, please? Just so I know what you think :)**_

* * *

Typically, hurricanes were supposed to reach 140mph during a hurricane. The large swirling mass of white clouds that were battering the earth below him had to be going faster than that. Yet, according to all the information the computers were telling him, the hurricane was still classified as a Category 4. Yeah, right. To be able to literally lift an aeroplane into the air – especially considering the size of the 777 – no, Scott figured the computers had to be lying to him.

Plus, there was the added factor that he'd spent the last five hours learning a lot more about hurricanes than he cared to think about, due to being stuck on a satellite orbiting the earth: a satellite which just had to rely on a certain red rocket to fetch him, and take him back down to earth.

The same rocket which also had to bring him his supplies each month, come to think of it. He was almost out of Pepsi which was very depressing. So now he was stuck god knows how many miles above the planet, waiting. The same thing he'd been doing for the last twenty-four hours. Or twenty-four hours, thirty-one minutes and two point three seconds to be exact. If you wanted to be precise.

He most definitely hadn't been counting. Okay, that was a lie. But there were only so many facts about hurricanes you could learn, and only so much time you could spend in Thunderbird 5's gym before you began to get really bored. Which sort of brought him back to researching hurricanes again.

And back to the entire annoying problem of the video-links not working properly. Thank _you_ hurricane for not allowing me to talk to my brothers: so thoughtful of you.

He eyed the clouds below with a glare, and tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair again. The hurricane didn't move, not much to his surprise.

"Okay," He sighed, swinging round in the chair and tapping on the nearest glowing blue holograph, showing a swirling wind pattern. "Let's continue learning. The eye of a hurricane is formed from the wind being deflected by the…"

* * *

"Oh that was cool! Did you see the way the palm tree went flying? And check out that wave – it just wrecked the decking at the bottom of the steps…"

Virgil drew the nearest pillow over his head and groaned dramatically. "Alan, please, god, just shut up."

There was a short pause before more sniggering started up. "Hey, what do you would happen if I opened the entrance to '2's hanger in this?"

"I would slowly and painfully kill you, before resurrecting you to kill you again."

"Fair enough." Alan deserted the glass doors, carefully reinforced since Thunderbird 1's engines had wrecked them on the first test flights a few years before. That was the one good thing – at least the villa was relatively secure as long as no one stepped outside.

"I am bored. I've gone through all the video games, attempted to skateboard inside and been told off by Dad over the vid-call for doing that, successfully wrecked the kitchen whilst trying to make something, and almost poisoned Gordon's fish. So yeah, not much else for me to do."

"You haven't broken Johnny's telescope yet then?"

Alan brightened at that suggestion and Virgil drew the pillow over his head again. That had not been the best suggestion of the century, especially as his youngest brother didn't appear to understand the meaning of sarcasm.

Leaping to his feet, Alan disappeared out the door, armed with what looked suspiciously like a water gun. Virgil didn't even want to think about the torture he'd inevitably just booked his book-loving brother in for. Someone was going to be in the dog-house later at any rate.

"You know; most people think living on a tropical island is fantastic. Oh, how lucky are you? But no. You have not been stuck indoors during a hurricane. By the way, where's Allie going with that water gun? John's going paranoid."

Gordon collapsed on the sofa, kicking off his dripping wet trainers and glaring in frustration at the raging storm outside.

Virgil removed the pillow, keeping it within reaching distance though. "Alan's in destructive mode, I accidentally told him to wreck John's stuff instead of mine." Gordon sniggered. "Hey, don't judge, it was self-defence!"

"Will Johnny see it that way? I don't know, I mean…would I see it that way? Probably not. And…no, you're a dead man Virg. Have you seen what John did to the WiFi box last time it stopped working?"

Virgil reached for the pillow again, and stopped, as water dripped onto his arm. "Gordy, why the hell are you wet?"

"Um…I may have opened a window…or gone outside… just once, okay? Chill."

Virgil regarded him in a silence that either meant he was worried, or really, really mad. Gordon figured it was probably the latter. Right, so he needed to run off and hide somewhere. Maybe Thunderbird 4's pod? Nah, too obvious.

"When's the next weather report?"

"Whenever the signal to the TV comes back on."

"Dude, its 2060, aren't we meant to be able to get a signal even with a hurricane above us?"

Virgil didn't bother replying, about to finally throw his pillow back onto the chair on the opposite of the lounge, when the rescue siren went off, seeming much louder than usual and high pitched as it echoed around the island. He groaned, and shoved the pillow back over his head to block out the sound before it dawned on him what he was hearing.

"Finally! Something exciting to do!" Gordon grinned, leaping up from the sofa, and activating the video link. "Hey Scotty."

Alan came skidding into the room, the soles of his trainers wet from where he'd also attempted to go outside, admitting defeat a few seconds later. John followed him, nose in a book, which no-one was particularly surprised about.

"So, what's the rescue? Will the best Thunderbird be needed?" Alan, obviously, started talking straight away.

"'4 always is."

"Okay, one, that's a total lie, you only need '4 on like 48% of rescues and two, I was talking about '3. Obviously."

Gordon glared at his younger brother, and threw the pillow at him. Alan ducked, smirking at him, still all but bouncing as he waited for more information.

John looked up from his book, shoved Alan into a chair and gave him a pointed look. "Sit. Good dog."

"Guys, are you going to listen or not?" Scott was attempting to hide his grin, disappearing from view for a moment as he brought the holographic of the rescue scene towards the vid-link.

"Well?" Virgil was genuinely paying attention, having forgotten that John was probably annoyed him at that moment, meaning his life was in danger.

"There's a ship in trouble off the coast of Bermuda. They've still got the tail-end of the hurricane that's battering Tracy Island right now, and it's caused the supply ship to capsize. There's a crew of about fifteen on board, fourteen of which have already been rescued by helicopter. The fifteenth is still trapped in the control room, and something's jamming the door mechanisms. The conditions are too bad for the helicopter crew to risk another rescue attempt, so Thunderbird 4's the only craft with the capabilities of getting that guy out of there. You've got about a half-an-hour time window when you get there, flying at max speed."

"Got it." Virgil agreed with a glance at his immediate older brother. "John, drop the book and I'll meet you and Gordon in '2."

"What about me?" Alan asked, glancing hopefully at his older brother.

Scott gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry Al, but '1 won't get through those winds, and there's not much you could do when you got there."

Gordon grinned. "Well, what was that you were saying about '4 only be needed for 45% of the rescues?"

"I said 48%," Alan replied sulkily, slouched on the sofa with his arms crossed looking miserable.

"Hey, tell you what, next rescue we get called out on, you can co-pilot '2 and we'll leave John behind?" Virgil suggested, wincing as said brother glared at him from the other side of the room.

"Whatever," the blond teenager muttered.

"Okay, suit yourself, but we have to go. See you when we get back."

Gordon bounded over to the hidden entrance to the lifts down to the hanger, and let out a dramatic sigh to see John carefully placing his book on the side. "Come on Johnny!" He whined and his older brother rolled his eyes.

"Jeez, I'm coming, keep your hair on."

* * *

Virgil didn't look up as they entered the cabin, instead checking the latest weather reports from Thunderbird 5, waiting for the holographic display to flicker into place. The wind speeds were not looking at all promising, if the small flashing red light next to the weather radar icon was anything to go by.

"Thunderbird 4's secure, right?" He asked, tapping the red light and swiping the holographs to one side of the display screen.

Gordon nodded, half considering going to double check his sub given the apparent danger. "You got it." He frowned. "You didn't think I would leave her unsecured when you're gonna get your evil hands on her?"

"Whatever. Say John, can you chuck him out at some point?" Virgil asked, still distracted, and not in the mood for dealing with over-excited younger brothers.

"Sorry Virg, but I'd probably be accused of murder."

"Good point." Virgil pretended to think of another way of getting rid of his younger brother and Gordon flopped down in a seat.

"Hurry up!" He moaned, picking at a loose thread of the co-pilot's chair, and jumping slightly as new readouts about the rescue scene arrived on the screen of his watch, illuminating the cabin before the lights kicked in.

Virgil snapped into serious mode. "Right guys, strap yourselves in. This is gonna be a bumpy ride."

"Yeah, no kidding." Gordon glanced over at John, who was seemingly relaxing, his legs stretched out in front of him as he swiped down on his tablet. "Gordon, this stuff is of more use to you, it's just more info about the layout of the ship and the crew's swimming abilities."

Gordon tapped his watch. "Beam it across then."

The hanger doors slowly withdrew, revealing dark clouds ominously gathering on the horizon, signalling more rain to come. As if the sea surrounding the island wasn't already high enough – the south and north beaches were currently underwater, and the waves were already rising up the cliff path higher than was comforting.

"Okay then, get ready for the roller-coaster." Virgil called back from the controls.

Gordon grimaced. "You really had to say that?" He muttered, remembering the last roller-coaster he'd been on. Needless to say, that had not been an enjoyable experience, made even less so by the fact John and Alan had suddenly turned into a pair of adrenaline junkies, loving every second whilst the water loving Tracy had been clinging to safety rail in a death grip. He'd only gone on the damn thing in the first place to attempt to prove he wasn't scared. Which, hey, you know, he most definitely had been – terrified in fact - but he'd been damn sure he hadn't been about to show it.

"Gordy?"

"Huh?" He glanced across at John who was watching him in concern, the tablet finally safely stored in one of the lockers.

"I asked if you were okay."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Really? Because it looks like you're clinging onto the seat like it's your last lifeline."

Gordon blinked, glancing down at his hands and realising he was clutching the edge of chair in a white-knuckle grip. "Oh, um... just reflexes."

John eyed him suspiciously but understood him well enough not to ask any more questions. Probably a good thing. Freaking out in Thunderbird 2 in the middle of a hurricane wouldn't bode well for anyone. The annoying thing was that he didn't even remember why he was scared of roller-coasters. He liked heights well enough.

"Oh shit." Virgil muttered, leaning forwards to one of the red holographs, glaring at the readouts from the engines, and attempting to reboot some of the systems that had starting flashing red, switching off the alarm that had started, alerting him to the emergency readout.

Ignoring the way the Thunderbird was being buffeted by the wind, Gordon leapt out of his seat, and crossed to the controls. "What's up?"

"I'm using way too much power on that engine part that needs replacing. It's going to burn itself out unless I cut down but if I turn down the throttle too much then we'll end up falling out of the sky. So, yeah, not great. And to top it all, I'm currently flying blind thanks to the weather conditions."

"But it'll be okay, right?" Gordon asked, finally sitting down in the co-pilot seat as another gust of wind sent the aircraft shaking to one side, and casting the red alarm a glare. Virgil didn't reply, instead frowning as the readouts still increased into the red to scarlet zone.

"Try the radio again. There was too much interference a moment ago, but you might get through now."

"Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 2."

John grinned, leaving his seat and joining them up front. "Talk of the devil."

"How are you reading me?" There was another crackle of static across the radio frequency and then the video link went completely dead, with just the audio remaining.

"Scott? Yeah, I'm reading you on about Strength Two." There was another crackle of static and then lightening flashed right in front of them, lighting up the cockpit. For a split second, it was impossible to tell if it had hit the Thunderbird or had just missed them.

John was cursing, still covering his eyes. Gordon shoved him down behind the seat, out of the way of the flashing red lights.

"That was close." Virgil whispered, eyeing the new alarm that had started. "Oh you have got to be kidding me."

"Now what?"

"We just lost one of the backup systems. If we lose the weather radar now, then we're officially screwed." Virgil flicked the alarms off again, and attempted to glance over his shoulder and watch the sky ahead at the same time. "How's Johnny?"

"John?"

There was a groan from behind and Gordon exchanged a look with his brother, beginning to feel slightly concerned, as he turned around and joined his blond haired sibling.

"You okay?" John blinked, trying to clear his blurred vision.

"I think so. That…hurt. A lot. You know what, I think I'm gonna give up on getting blinded by lightning and then thrown to the ground."

Gordon winced. Yep, he could sympathise with that a lot. But still, he couldn't resist a bit of brotherly teasing. "Ah, don't be a wimp."

John sat up, glaring at him as his eyesight began to return fully. "You do like to live dangerously don't you?" He muttered sarcastically.

"Of course Lord Tracy," Gordon replied, sniggering as he ducked the playful punch thrown his way. John sat back, and watched in amusement as his younger brother pretended to bow. "That's right, respect your elder's young one."

"You are so, _insanely_, weird." Gordon told him helpfully.

"Thank you."

"You planning to get up or are you just going to spend your entire time chillaxing on the floor?"

John glared at him. "Oh shut up." He retorted, scrambling to his feet, limping slightly due to landing on his ankle when he'd fallen on the floor and climbing back into his seat. Gordon pretended to be checking the tablet, instead secretly double checking his brother was okay before re-joining Virgil up front.

"Oh jeez," he muttered under his breath, feeling sick as the wind attacked them again.

Virgil shot him a worried glance. "You alright?"

"Just remembered why I hate roller-coasters again."

* * *

Thunderbird 4's windows were pounded with rain as the pod door edged open. Gordon felt a thrill of excitement at the sight of the furious waves that were crashing against the sides of the green pod.

"Thunderbird 4 to Thunderbird 2, about to launch." He reported, adjusting the radio frequency to cope with the stormy weather above them. Despite the hurricane being behind them, above Tracy Island, the current area of ocean was being pounded with some sort of sea storm, probably not helped by the tail end of the hurricane winds.

"FAB Thunderbird 4," Virgil confirmed, his voice magnified through the radio. Gordon edged the yellow sub forwards, a quick glance up out of the windows showing Thunderbird 2 hovering above the ocean above him. The green aircraft was being buffeted around and Gordon felt relieved that they hadn't brought Thunderbird 1. The smaller craft wouldn't have been able to cope with the weather, despite Alan's protests otherwise.

"Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 4. I'm picking up on a problem with your electrics Gordon."

"Really?" He frowned, leaning forwards to double check the control panel. There was a soft amber glow illuminating the cabin from one of the controls but he didn't think it was too big a fault to stop him from continuing. "It should be okay."

"Don't take any risks though," Scott warned him, the video link flickering slightly. Gordon sighed in exasperation. Even in Thunderbird 4 he was still being monitored by over protective older brothers.

"I won't," he told Scott before cutting transmission so he could concentrate on diving. The Thunderbird descended into the icy depths and unusually there seemed to be no sign of life. Circling the area that the boat was meant to be in, he double checked the scanners before realising that nothing was registering apart from Thunderbird 2.

"Hey Virgil," he called into the radio. "Can you back off a bit? I think you're disrupting the scanners."

"Sure, but that's never happened before." The pilot sounded confused and with growing concern as none of his instruments seemed to be giving correct readings Gordon had to agree with him, especially given the small collection of amber fault holographs that were gathering in the left side of the screen.

"No, but I've got a slight problem with one of electrics."

"Oh, okay." Virgil still didn't sound totally convinced, John agreeing with him in the background as he questioned the decision. "Backing off."

"FAB." Illuminating the murky waters ahead of him with the powerful lights of his sub, Gordon leaned forwards in his seat, frustrated that still nothing was picking up on his scanners. Something crashed against the side, sending Thunderbird 4 spiralling sideways like a crab and inside, taken totally by surprise, Gordon bashed his head on the windows. Blinking, he caught sight of what had caused his submarine to suddenly spin so drastically. Outside, a long ship like structure was drifting and the powerful currents had dragged it down under the surface slightly. It was spinning slowly, creating a powerful whirlpool that threatened to overpower '4.

"What the hell?" He muttered. "Thunderbird 5, you there?"

"Yes. You have eyes on the prize yet?"

Gordon winced as he watched the structure in front of him slowly twisting and turning in the swirling waters. It was getting darker despite his attempts to light the water in front of him. "You could say that."

"What's wrong?" Typical Scott, instantly able to tell something wasn't going according to plan even when he wasn't on the planet.

"I thought you said the ship was in difficulty, not freaking sunk."

Scott had the decency to look a bit surprised himself. "Uh, well, um… hold on a sec." There was a small pause, and then a crash. Gordon gave the video link a confused look. It sounded less like his older brother was trying to find more info and more like he was having a fight with a half asleep kangaroo.

"Thunderbird 5, I don't know what the hell you're playing at, but I need to save these guys and get back to Thunderbird 2 before Virgil starts reaching critical problems with those engines."

Scott re-appeared. "Gordy, relax. I'm trying to get the new info across to your scanners along with the updated situation."

"Just tell me," He snapped, feeling slightly guilty, but unable to help himself. Yes, he was stressed out. But when he knew Virgil was having serious problems in getting them out to the rescue site, let alone back again – well, then he figured Scott couldn't blame him.

"S&amp;R helicopters reported the ship only going under about five minutes ago. If you hurry, then you could get him out before the control room completely floods."

"Fine. I'm can't get close in '4 with the conditions like this – the current has decided to turn against me." Gordon narrowed his eyes at the sea water outside. _Damn you Neptune._ "I'm going out myself. I can use the laser cutters and then some of the grapple ropes to '4 from the debris to clear it, before using EVAC. Can Virg pick him up on the surface?"

"Not sure. How long until you're sending him up?"

"Five minutes, max. You cool with that? Scott, I'm going to need updates on the ship's sinking progress all the time. If it gets too deep, then removing that debris might end up being more dangerous that perhaps getting the control room free and sending that to the surface, like we did with that Ned Tedford guy."

"FAB. Virg?"

"Four minutes Gordy, make it count. John's trying to cross over some of the systems to get some of my controls back, but it's not going to last forever. Four minutes."

Gordon shrugged at the video link. "Good job I'm only going to need three point five then."

Virgil gave a dramatic sigh, and switched off his comms link. Gordon glanced at Scott.

"Why's he annoyed at me now?"

"God knows. But hurry up."

* * *

With the water-proof layering on his suit having malfunctioned, he was dripping when he finally made it back onto Thunderbird 4 around three or four minutes later, sending the final crewmen up in the EVAC pod to the waiting Thunderbird 2.

Grabbing a towel from the back of the sub where he'd left one before they'd set out, just in case, he wrapped it round his shoulders, shivering slightly. He hadn't remembered it being so cold before, but a small alert told him that the heating had malfunctioned. Flashing the search-lights over its hull of the ship that was rapidly disappearing down into the inky darkness of the ocean below, he felt a sense of satisfaction that everyone had survived.

"Thunderbird 2, confirming that I have completed the mission, and am heading back to Pod 4 now." There was no reply and knowing instantly that there was something wrong, Gordon turned his full attention to the radio link, the first real concerns kicking in.

"Thunderbird 2? Come in, please." The silence was unnerving and he tried a different tactic. "Thunderbird 5, are you receiving me?" There was still no reply from both craft and telling himself not to panic Gordon put it down to the electric fault. The systems were shutting down without him doing anything, and he started the journey to the surface a bit faster than was technically advisable. He was aware that there was something seriously wrong but he hadn't truly started to panic until warning sirens wailed through the craft, red lights flashed urgently and then everything went pitch black as the Thunderbird spiralled out of control, descending towards the depths.

"Shit," He hissed, slamming his hand down on any control he could get his hands on, relying on his instincts to try and pull his sub back from the darkness that was slowly overwhelming him. His Thunderbird was failing around him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Thunderbird 5, come in!" Still fighting to gain back any control he could, he was caught unaware when a loud, scarlet flashing light appeared in front of him, along with a wailing siren, before something loud exploded behind him and he was sent flying forwards. Everything went dark.

* * *

_**Not quite sure whether that was okay or not, so let me know! Reviews?**_

_**Kat x**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Slightly shorter chapter than I normally write, so sorry about that. This is just under 3,000 words, unlike normally when I attempt to write around 3,500. Never mind. **_

* * *

"Thunderbird 5, come in!" Scott was just about able to respond to his younger brother's anxious call before alarms blared in his ears and red holographs started flashing next to a diagram, alerting him to the fact that something was seriously wrong with Thunderbird 4. The small sub's systems were all failing with just the life support system still working, according to the frantic alerts that were flashing around him. Not helping. Just giving him a headache.

"Damn it, Gordon. Answer me!" He yelled into the radio, wondering what had gone so badly wrong. He knew that there'd been problems but Gordon had promised he wouldn't take any risks and no matter what you thought of him, the aquanaut never messed around on rescues. Besides, Thunderbird 5 was meant to have certain automated procedures in place to ensure the systems could never fully shut down or malfunction whilst in use. It seemed more like the entire Thunderbird was being hacked. Where was EOS when you needed her?

"Thunderbird 5! Do you read me?" Virgil called through the radio, sounding seriously worried. Considering the fact that Virgil was a lot closer to Gordon than Scott, he made the decision to respond.

"Yes, I'm reading you Strength Four, Virg."

"What's going on? I've lost contact with Gordon and my displays are telling me that he's lost all control."

"He has," Scott confirmed grimly, turning round and heading into the anti-gravity section where he could get a clearer look at the holographic displays of Thunderbird 4 rather than the entire rescue scene. Frowning as another red light flashed, he made the images clearer and then tapped on a number for one of the faults, attempting to recode it to get one of Thunderbird 4's systems back online. "John, how do I try and get control back to him?" There was scuffling over the radio and then the astronaut's voice was heard.

"Scott...I don't think you can." Scott, who'd been trying to turn off the sirens as well as recode the systems, froze, staring at the vid-link that showed him his brothers.

"What?"

"I...we...it was never considered that Thunderbird 4 would need to be taken control of from 5. We can only do it for 3, 2 and 1." John was looking decidedly guilty, even though it wasn't his fault. He had a fair point – with '4 not normally being used for everyday rescues, there'd been no reason to install the extra tech. It just complicated things when repairs needed to be carried out on '5.

"Oh great. So let's just forget about the only Thunderbird left." Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Sorry John. Any ideas on how I can get these sirens to shut up?"

"Okay, that's easy. Just let Thunderbird 5 that you know there's something wrong, by doing this..."While John talked him through the process, Scott had caught sight of something else that was concerning him. "Guys, he's lost all power."

There was a crackle of static over the radio before Virgil shouted: "What?"

Scott winced as the speakers on board Thunderbird 5 magnified the yell, covering his ears for a second and catching sight of Virgil's apologetic look.

"Sorry." Another flashing holograph appeared next to his fingertips and Scott turned it around and frowning before realising something that sent the overprotective side of him into full blown panic.

"I'm losing all sight of him on the scanners. How is that even freaking possible? I'm losing all sign of him on the goddamn scanners and I didn't even know that could happen."

"But that's impossible," John whispered, looking shocked. "That shouldn't happen even if he has lost all power."

Scott leapt forwards, slamming his hand down one of the controls in one last desperate attempt to keep his younger brother from disappearing into the unknown completely but it was a waste of time as, with a cheerful flash of yellow and orange, the Thunderbird disappeared.

"No," he whispered, staring in horror. Standing up and heading over to the window he stared down at Earth, suddenly feeling very alone and very, very, helpless.

* * *

In the end, it had been down to Scott to relay the news to the occupants of Tracy Island, with Virgil having dropped off the rescued man at the nearest land – Bermuda – and then heading straight back to the rescue scene, ignoring the alarms and flashing amber holographs about the pending engine failures, and continued searching using the scanners on board Thunderbird 2.

Jeff Tracy had been off the island for a meeting in connection with Tracy Industries before the hurricane had struck and hadn't been able to get home since, leaving just Brains and Alan on the island. Tin-Tin was staying with Penelope whilst following up a lead on whatever her current objectives were considering the safety of IR's tech.

Scott had tried his father's mobile first, before leaving a message asking him to call him by the vid-phone link ASAP and then contacted Tin-Tin, texting her a quick message.

Then it was time for call he'd been dreading, but he knew was cruel to put off any longer. Alan had normally two reactions to things: furious, volcanic anger, or quiet acceptance that would result in a full blown freaking out panic attack type strange unknown reaction later on which generally ended up in a wall getting punched again and again. It wasn't hard to get the teenager to switch between the two very quickly.

"Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island."

Alan replied instantly, at first looking relieved, expecting the news that the rescue had been a success, but recognising the worried expression on his brother's face, then looking confused.

"Um, Scotty, what's going on?"

"Gordon's gone missing. I don't even know how that's possible, but there's no sign of Thunderbird 4 anywhere on the scanners. On the plus side, I know his life support systems were still working when he went offline."

"What? Why, what happened? I thought this was just your average, pretty easy callout?" Alan sat down on the nearest sofa, staring at the video link. Okay, so they were going for the quiet acceptance and then the freaking out reaction later. Not so great.

Scott frowned at his youngest brother. Gordon and Alan were as thick as thieves, and partners in crime, which meant either Alan was in shock and not yet comprehending what the entire 'I can't find him anywhere on the scanners' could truly mean, or he was about to do something incredibly stupid such as heading out to look for his missing brother using Thunderbird 3. It was impossible to figure out which one was the lesser of two evils.

"I know. I thought so too. Listen Allie, can you fill in Brains on the situation, I'm going to need his help. Keep an eye on the weather conditions, I'd like to get down to Tracy Island as soon as a possible. You'll probably get a vid-call from Tin-Tin, because I texted her about ten minutes ago, so you should talk to her."

"What about you? Come on, don't lie. There's no way you'd be this calm if I went missing. So are you okay? Because you haven't freaked out yet, which means there's something wrong."

"When did you get so damned perceptive?" Alan just gave him _that_ look, the same worried expression on his face that Scott could instantly translate to the knowledge that his younger sibling was scared. And he hated that.

"I had a good teacher. And…you know…I've had a lot of practise reading Gordy's feelings."

Scott tried not to wince at that. Yep, that was something that had to sorted out. There were too many secrets since last year and that disaster. They needed to stop pretending that accident had never happened, and actually make sure they were all okay with it. "Thanks Alan. I need to talk to Dad."

"Scott?"

"Yes?"

"We'll find him." Alan looked straight at him, absolute certainty in his blue eyes. "I promise."

"Yeah. I need to go." He switched off the vid-link and stared at the stars in distance, trying not to punch something. Breaking up vital equipment on '5 was not going to help anyone, let alone Gordon. Plus, EOS would probably get mad at him. "Don't make promise you can't keep Allie," He whispered.

* * *

He slunk forwards, keeping crouched low in his seat, the pale lights of his sub illuminating the dark waters in front of him. The grim depths engulfed most things, but the scanners on his sub revealed that there was a life source somewhere amongst the bleak view in front of him. A human life source.

He grinned. Ah yes, another target. He patrolled the oceans in his sub, his sub that someone close to him, a friend, a sister perhaps, had given to him.

_'__Look Alḝxi, I've got you a gift. All you have to do is make sure no one ever goes near a large boat of mine. A large sub. Massive. It does research, you see? And it is very important no one ever finds out about it, because they will take it and then we won't get millions for it on the black market. You can protect it, and kill the people who come underwater in their little boats and subs. Just like in your video games.'_

He liked that idea. He loved his video games. Before, before the big wave had hit and had turned everything he knew upside down, he'd had a big room with a big screen with hundreds of video games. Flickering lights on the carpet, the spotlights dimmed as he conquered the lives of zombies and attempted to beat his previous record on Outlast.

Now he lived that video game in real life. Taking peoples' secrets, stealing their lives, their souls and then he would claim them as his servants, before killing them and tossing them into the dark abyss he lived in. The video game was his life.

There were a few memories. A brief patch of light, a smile, a hand stroking his cheek, blond hair, a laugh. But then the darkness would return as usual. He liked that. He preferred the darkness. The light brought back too many unwanted emotions. He didn't need, nor want, emotions. He was a killer, a professional. Straight after when he first remembered the darkness, he'd been picked up by a submarine. He'd killed them all. Then he had heard from the woman. The friend, a sister?

He sniggered. Just imagine. Well that was dangerous.

He, the darkness, was getting stronger.

He set his submarine into a small inclined dive, closer to where the radar had picked up on the life sign. There was a small yellow submarine sinking further down into the depths of the ocean, swirling in the wake of the current.

He smiled, a cruel sadistic grin, like that of a hyena. Claws reached out, tendrils of darkness. Another life to be taken. The game must continue.

Approaching the yellow sub, he frowned as his gaze flickered over the black words, etched into the side of the vessel. _Thunderbird_. He linked his own submarine to the airlock of the _Thunderbird _and crawled through, landing with no sound, ghost-like, on the slightly wet surface. Flames were flickering in the corners of the back. He stamped them out.

Creeping forwards, silent like the shadows that haunted his mind, he searched, _hunted_ for the human. He spotted him, at the front, clearly unconscious. The human seemed to be completely out of it and the darkness dragged him out of the seat, dumping him ungratefully on the floor at the back of the sub, swiftly taking control of the sub with a flash of his controls. He'd hacked something earlier using his specialised equipment – clearly this was the unlucky vessel. He wasn't going to kill this human that quickly, he decided. He would have a little fun first on finding out the secrets.

"Ow," there was a groan from the human. The darkness glared at him, before swiftly sending him into the caverns of unconsciousness with a swift but heavy blow to the back of the head.

The game must go on.

* * *

It was around five that afternoon, at least an hour after the meeting had originally finished, when Jeff Tracy finally managed to escape the clutches of crowds of business men and women, let alone the news reporters who followed his privately chauffeured car like a pack of vultures.

"Did everything go according plan, Mr Tracy?" It wasn't the usual, cheerful driver that Jeff was used to. The usual man was off sick, having caught some type of the flu off his friends at the local bar. This man was the typical, jealous and quite frankly sulky employee that Jeff had come to realise he couldn't ever come to like over the years.

"Yes, thank you." He replied, finally being able to switch on his phone, and surprised to see the flashing light, and then the notification of a missed call, and two texts appear on the screen, blinking at him.

_You have one missed call from Scott Tracy._

Probably just a rescue. Scott tended to let him know about rescue situations when he couldn't keep an eye on them himself, telling him the basic details and if there was anything major to worry about.

But the two texts afterwards. That started the all too familiar alarm bells ringing as he slid his finger across the screen, and activated the holographic projector, as the vid-call connected. Scott had been apparently waiting for his reply, as he answered straight away.

"Dad? There's been an accident..." Jeff felt himself grow numb with shock as he sat back in his seat. Of all the things he'd been expecting to possibly go wrong, this was not one. They'd never planned any proper back up plans for Thunderbird 4 as she wasn't as often used as the other Thunderbirds. When International Rescue had first been set up, Brains had always focused on Thunderbirds 1 and 2 as they were nearly always used.

"He's disappeared. Completely. And he hasn't got any power. But he has got life support systems still working. At least I think he has because Thunderbird 5 hasn't been shrieking her alarms in my ears." Scott sighed, showing how worried he actually was. "I'm going to have to order John and Virgil out of there."

"What? No." Jeff told him. Scott met his gaze squarely.

"The winds are getting stronger and I'm not willing to risk their lives as well. As long as I'm up on 5 and I'm Field Commander, I make the decisions out on rescue."

"You're not out on rescue."

"That's not the point. I refuse to let Virgil and John stay out there. The readings I'm getting from Thunderbird 2's systems show that she's got problems with her engines and if she doesn't get back here now, she won't make it. Virgil was seriously concerned about the warnings he was getting earlier, but that was before Gordon when missing. He won't leave and stop searching until I specifically order him too."

With a feeling of dread, Jeff agreed. As Scott signed off, he checked the weather reports for the area around Tracy Island. The winds were technically still too strong to allow a safe flight, but there was no way he was going to leave Alan by himself to deal with the situation. Yes, Brains was there, but he'd be spending most of his time in his lab trying to figure out a way to get '4 back on their watch.

He called his assistant somewhat automatically, and the blond haired twenty-something girl picked up, smiling.

"Long time no see." She laughed.

"Hi Natasha. Look, are you alone?"

"Yes. Why, is this about IR?" Natasha had become an agent, earning his trust when she'd saved most of her colleagues during a mad gunman's rampage of the Tracy Industries tower in Seattle.

"Gordon's missing."

Her facial expression went from pleased to see him to a darker, more worried one. "I'll arrange Tracy One to be prepared at the nearest airport immediately."

"Thanks Tasha."

"Bring him home." She told him, with a noted tremble of her hands as she typed in the details on her nearest computer and then switched off the call.

Jeff stared out at the stormy skies above the car.

_Come back safely Gordon. Please son. For all of us._

* * *

**_Ah, yes, the first new character. Meet Natasha. Remember her - she'll turn up again. I quite like her as a character, so I might bring her into my next story. Maybe. Oh, and yes, I finally named the 'darkness' guy. Al_****_ḝ_****_xi. Do not ask why I chose that name, it just fit considering his origins, which, hey, you don't know about, but I do, so don't judge me. Is it even a proper name? I'm not sure. Oops._**

**_Anyway, review? Even if you've already reviewed the first version of this chapter, review a second time for this version? Please?_**

**_Kat x_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_So originally these timings didn't add up, and Cathrl helpfully pointed that out to me. Thank you for that! So I've changed the timings, added in a few parts, taken out a few parts, and also added in a few clues that are linked to my next story. So when you read this, and sit there wondering what I'm going on about, trust me, it will make sense eventually. By 2017 anyway! :)_**

* * *

_36 hours later_

_Thunderbird 4_

_Depth: 900 metres (2953 feet)_

_'__Oh shit, where am I and why are the lights out?' _was, in reality, probably the first coherent thought Gordon was able to form as he came back to a conscious state. Then the joking yet slightly sassy and overly sarcastic side of him piped up, forming a second though of: _'Wow. That was all very dramatic and so _un_-cool.'_

He sat up, grabbing at the locker door and now empty slot where the EVAC pod had once been to help, annoyed at the way his legs still felt weak. He rubbed the back of his head wincing and trying to ignore his killer headache, before heading to the front, guessing that he'd been thrown to the back when '4 had started her dying whale twisting act.

It was pitch black outside and in as the spotlights were still out. Only the warm green glow emitting from the Life Support system was illuminating the cabin. Heading forwards, he turned, seeing movement out of the corner of his eyes, like a shadow. He was reminded of some shadow ninja game Alan had become addicted to on his phone and found himself smiling.

The submarine seemed deserted and convinced he was seeing things, he returned his attention to trying to reboot the systems. How could anything have possibly entered when he was underwater anyway? Clearly he was concussed. Full gone conclusion when you've been hit round the back of your head.

He tapped at the screen, bringing up a few remaining holograms that showed him what areas of the Life Support system were working, and what wasn't that the computers were aware of, and also a small diagram of one of the engines. He attempted to get them to start and for a moment, there was a soft whirring from the back as the engines began and Gordon grinned, hoping they'd stay that way but then they spluttered and died and everything went dark apart from the green glow again.

"Okay...this sucks," He murmured, sitting down in his chair as he felt light-headed again and sniggered. "Oh well, at least I won't be being monitored by overprotective older brothers now." Although, considering he had no idea where he was, or how long '4 had been drifting and sinking, he secretly wished that he did have the constant stream of questions being fired at him. Anything to have the quiet reassurance that his brothers _were_ still there and he wasn't going to die alone in a failing sub.

Heading into the back of the Thunderbird, treading lightly through the slight puddles of water from his damp suit, he opened his locker, dragging out the survival kit and after a slight hesitation, the backpack of stuff he had kept in there from when he'd been hiding from an annoyed John.

Settling himself down in his chair and watching the pitch black waters outside out of the corner of his eye, he opened the backpack first, helping himself to a chocolate bar and a bottle of water, and then he turned his attention to the survival kit.

Emptying it out on the floor, Gordon surveyed the contents and grabbing a pen and a notepad from his backpack, he made a few calculations. He had to try and get to land or find another vessel to board within 3 days.

He had food and water to last for 72 hours and there were the emergency blankets, a repair kit, a radio, a flashlight, clothes, a knife, matches and rope. And he had the spare uniform in the back and his other backpack. And Brains had put the special energy drinks in each Thunderbird recently as well. The thing that was worrying him was the oxygen. He had no power, which meant no way of getting back to the surface unless a whale decided to pop in and give him a lift.

_Wow, you're really sarcastic today Gordon. Hmm, let's think why?_

Discovering a pack of batteries at the bottom of the survival kit as well, he decided it was worthwhile turning on the torch. With the cabin lit up, he felt more relaxed, although he longed for human voices. He should have brought a little recording of his family down with him, he thought to himself, smirking. Scott was probably all but smashing up 5 trying to find him on the scanners, Virgil would be out looking, John would be trying to hack into 4's systems to give him back control and Jeff would be contacting all the agents. Alan would probably go and get another submarine and go out looking for him.

The idea of his younger brother at the controls of a submarine looking all serious made him laugh and he winced as his headache increased. Rifling through the First Aid kit, he discovered a packet of Paracetamol tablets. Popping one in his mouth and swallowing it down with the water, he lay back on the seat. Oh well, it wasn't home, but it wasn't bad either. After all, he could think of worse places to be stuck.

Now, he'd just have a rest and then he'd have a look to see what he had in that repair kit...

* * *

_6 hours later_

_Thunderbird 4_

_Depth: 1,234 metres (4,049 feet)_

A crash made Gordon wake, and he jumped to his feet only to realise it was just the torch falling to the floor. Shivering and realising that it was because '4 was shutting down the unnecessary parts of the life support systems to keep him alive for longer, he grabbed the blanket from the survival kit, wrapping it round himself.

Sitting on the floor, his back resting against his chair, he double checked the repair kit before heading for the back of the sub. He could at least attempt to fix some of the systems. He may not have had Virgil's engineering degree, but he knew how '4 worked and after Alan's last escapade on the yellow sub out in that Indonesian rescue – well, he'd done a lot more fixing then he'd care to admit.

The entire electric component was smoking and he whistled.

"Wow. That's well and truly busted." Deciding to speak aloud to keep himself from going insane, he continued working away at the electrics, removing the wires. "Wonder how long it'll be before I find another vessel to board. I wish I knew where about I am. Maybe I'm nowhere near Bermuda anymore."

That was a scary point. He'd seen himself how crazy the currents had been, and also how strong to be able to drag the ship down so fast there had been almost a whirlpool behind it.

Wishing he'd thought to put a compass in the emergency kit, he returned to the bottle of water when a soft thumping sound came from the side of the Thunderbird. Frowning, Gordon crawled forwards, looking out the window to see a small glowing light in the distance.

"Another sub!" Flashing the torch several times in the typical Morse code for SOS, he glared as the other submarine refused to respond. It was only as the light came closer that he realised what it was.

The angler fish brushed against the window, its ugly features illuminated by the light of Gordon's torch. Fascinated by the fish, he sat back in his chair and watched it, longing to be able to swim away back to the surface like the fish was able to swim away down into the depths.

"Hey fish. You really are creepy," he greeted it and the fish continued swimming alongside him. Hoping it wasn't going to get eaten, he continued talking it, realising that he probably sounded like an idiot, but then again, who was gonna hear him anyway? Besides, he talked to his goldfish at home, a small fact that only Virgil knew about and was sworn to secrecy on pain of death.

"Don't suppose you know where another submarine is?" He asked the fish. It flashed its light at him and he grinned. "No, didn't think so. Now, let's see, what have I got in here that I might be able to use to try and regain electricity." There didn't seem to be anything much about from a few rolls of metal. Retrieving it, he held it up in the warm glow of the torch, and showed it to the fish.

"What'd you reckon fish?" Looking at it, he felt kind of mean. "I should think of a name for you. Fish isn't very good is it?"

There was a growling sound and then the thumping noise was repeated. Gordon rubbed his ears. "I'm hearing things now Fish. It ain't fair." The thumping sound came again and he sighed, dropping the blanket on the floor, the hard work on the electricity component had warmed him up. Treading carefully amongst the stuff he'd dumped on the floor the 'night' before, he ducked into the smallest part of '4, at the very back.

Something whizzed past him and he spin on the spot, instinctively lashing out. Then his foot slipped in something and he went collapsing down on the floor and frowned. "What the hell?"

There was nothing there. He knew there was nothing there and yet here he was on the floor. Opening his eyes, he shifted into a more comfortable position, and grabbing the torch which had been turned off, he looked around, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to spy the intruder. He felt a bit like one of the killers on the newest addition of Assassin's Creed.

There was no one or anything at all, there. Shivering, he headed back to his chair which he'd turned into his rest area. Then there was the work area and the fish talking area. Thunderbird 4 had never been so organised and the irony was killing him. But damn, what would he do to have it disorganised but be on the surface, or on Tracy Island.

"Hey Fish," he greeted it only to realise that it was gone. For a moment, he felt genuinely sad before telling himself that it was only a fish, not a human. But it had still been company... better company than the mysterious now appropriately named 'Shadow Figure.'

Feeling slightly light-headed, he double checked the oxygen levels and adjusted the tanks that fed him his life source. He ran a hand through his hair, relieved to find he'd finally dried off. He was beginning to get paranoid about the oxygen tanks, a bit like Scott was with space rescues since that episode with the meteorite and they'd all nearly ended up dead.

With a quick glance to double check if the fish had come back, he lounged around in the cabin feeling bored. He was used to being able to go for a swim or running away from annoyed older brothers, not being cooped up a small space, which was one of the reasons the gym on Thunderbird 5 had been installed as John had not been impressed the first time Gordon had been monitor on the space station. He'd returned to the satellite to discover streamers and glitter everywhere and AC-DC on repeat, closely followed by _Yellow Submarine,_ because of course Gordon couldn't forget his now well loved (all be it only by him) theme tune.

Gordon sorted the food into piles before shoving some back in the locker, in some distant hope that he wouldn't be tempted to eat it all at once. Now he really realised how much he appreciated home cooking. And Chinese take-a-way's come to think of it.

There was a groaning sound from the back of the submarine and he frowned. Without any way of knowing how far down he was, he was unable to know when he was in serious trouble. Thunderbird 4 only had a certain depth she could dive to before the pressure would become too much unless she had been reinforced.

Deciding that it would probably be much safer to stay in the engine area where the metal was thicker, and he was away from the windows where there was just an outer of glass protecting him. Thick glass, granted, but still just glass. He was beginning to get creeped out by the pure darkness of the water anyway. Which was a horrible thought in itself. He'd almost drowned before, and had known he was drowning. It was only thanks to his love of swimming and a dare from Alan and a lot of encouragement that he'd been able to go anywhere near the ocean again. Drowning officially would be his most feared way to die. So no, not happening.

Besides, if he started thinking like that, or even gave himself the opportunity, then he'd end up having a panic attack. Just like before. Oh jeez, forget that thought.

Shivering again, he wrapped the blanket around him, and sat in the engine compartment, shining the torch all around, watching for whatever had been trying to injure him a few minutes before. He was feeling less and less like he was on his familiar second-home that was Thunderbird 4 and more and more like he'd been transported into a live version of Five Nights at Freddie's game.

"This is crazy," He announced, unclenching his fists as his nails dug into his palm. Dammit, focus. Think logically. "There is no way that there can be anything here." A loud groan came from the sides of the Thunderbird and finding it disconcerting, let alone freaky, he backed up until he hit the warm bulk of the engines.

This was going to be a long wait and one where he dreaded every movement, and ticked off every second that passed.

* * *

_22 hours, 30 minutes later_

_Thunderbird 4_

_Depth: 1,629 metres (5,342 feet)_

Thunderbird 4 was drifting in the inky darkness helplessly, without any sign of humans or life at all, apart from the angler who'd returned and was swimming alongside the submarine, and yet Gordon was sure there was some other form of life in his Thunderbird other than him.

He'd taken to relaxing in his chair, having got the lights working again, but only having enough electricity to keep the Life Support System and the lights working. He'd been trying to ignore the cold and merciless and _freezing_ waters that were pressing down on the sub, eager to take him for themselves, out of his mind. A panic attack was the last thing he needed.

For a brief moment, the inbuilt compass had lit up as well, but it had been spinning madly and deciding it was wasting too much power considering it didn't even seem to be working, Gordon had shut it down, instead choosing to power the heating.

The strange shadow that had sent him falling to the floor the day before hadn't reappeared, although he was aware of eyes on him. When he slept, he tended to sleep with his back against the ruined engines, because at least there he was relatively protected. He knew it was stupid, and yet at the same time, the impossible had been proven time after time to him. It was not a comforting thought.

Gordon had taken to talking to angler fish, considering it a friend, and getting quite disappointed when it swam away to get something to eat. Sure it was ugly, but it was alive and that was what mattered. If the angler wasn't there, then he began to think about the water and about home and about how his submarine rescue mission had turned into a Dark Sea Eclipse Assassination Game crossed with Five Nights at Freddie's.

Gordon checked his watch, which was still working apart from the radio links, and grinned in discovering it was time to eat something. He was all but starving having spent a lot of time on the repairs and not eating as much. Of course, the repairs he could attempt with the tools he had that worked had been completed so all he could do was drift forwards using the current and at the same, slowly drift downwards. Downwards, to where? The abyss? He knew from diving expeditions with his old W.A.S.P. buddies how deep the ocean got to in places. The seas around Bermuda were notorious. There was a reason they'd never found Flight 19.

Having decided he had a good few metres to go before Thunderbird 4 began to buckle under the pressure, Gordon had returned to his seat.

"Do you have any idea how much I miss human company?" He moaned to the angler fish. The fish winked its light at him and he glared at it. "You're no help! Why don't you just swim away somewhere?" Jumping to his feet, he punched the chair in frustration and then spotted the fish moving away. "No! No, I didn't mean it! Come back!"

The fish disappeared into the distance and feeling despondent, he collapsed down on his chair. "Nice one Gordon," He muttered to himself, silently fuming. It was only when Thunderbird 4 started to rock from side to side that he realised there was something wrong.

The whale slowly emerged from the cavernous darkness below, its great tail propelling it forwards. It was massive and the sea around it appeared to glow although he knew it was just a reflection on the glass from the lights inside the Thunderbird.

Gordon stared at it, mesmerised, having never been that close to a whale before. Well, he had, just not this deep, and not in Thunderbird 4. The whale disappeared up above him and then Thunderbird 4 began her spinning act again, caught up in the wake of the giant mammal.

Gordon had forgotten that was going to happen and found himself tossed onto the ceiling. "Oh not again," He sighed. "This really is not my day." Thunderbird 4 seemed to agree with him as she sunk even lower, even faster. The lights flickered and went out and shocked, Gordon froze spotting the all too familiar shadow figure. He knew that there was nothing he'd done to cause that to happen.

"Hello?" He called out and then smirked. "Oh yeah, nice one. As if whoever or whatever's here is gonna reply, and just say, yeah, I'm in the back. Want a chocolate bar?" Sniggering, he jumped up from his seat. He didn't actually care if it was someone who would count as an enemy, days underwater had made him reckless. He had nothing to lose.

Swinging round as something slipped behind him, he didn't have time to react as someone or something hit him, before he landed a punch of his own, his fist connected with what felt like a nose. Something wet dripped down his fist. Blood. Gasping as the shadow figure that he could still not see dug a knee into his stomach, he keeled over before slamming into the ground. Something hurt, a lot and he gave into the darkness.

* * *

_9 hours later_

_Thunderbird 4_

_Depth: 2,743 metres (9,000 feet)_

"I am getting really sick of this." Gordon propped himself up, blinking as he tried to clear the dizzy feeling. It was only then he realised he was feeling light headed. Not bothering to get up as there didn't seem to be much point; he dragged himself over to the control panel and spotted the warning light on the oxygen monitor. "Oh great. I'm going to die all alone in a submarine." The panic returned, threatening to overwhelm him.

He frowned. "Oh that's cheerful Gordon. Why don't you just give up now? Think what your brothers would think." He sighed. There was no point in thinking what his family would think. There was no chance of anybody picking him up. There was no submarine in these parts that he could think of, and none of the other Thunderbirds could get him back to the surface.

The groaning sound echoed through the Thunderbird and he glared at the walls. The pressure was slowly getting too much and he was preparing himself for a watery grave soon. It was funny actually, considering how he'd always considered water as his best friend and yet now it was going to kill him.

"Don't think like that!" He scolded himself. Helping himself to the last of the food, he lay back in the chair, closing his eyes and letting the dizziness wash over him. That was funny, he felt like he was floating. And it was getting less easy to breathe, and yet he couldn't fight it.

At least the pain in his head was gone.

A loud screech cut through the air.

"Shut the alarm up, Scott, I refuse to get up yet," he muttered and then a loud mechanical voice announced that he was about to collide with another craft. Summoning all of his strength, he opened his eyes and tapped on one of the blinking holographs to allow the two airlocks to connect. One of his only remaining available systems.

"Docking procedure complete. Entry confirmed." The mechanical voice told him and Gordon could have sworn it sounded cheerful. He needed to get out of Thunderbird 4 before he collapsed out of Carbon Dioxide poisoning. Opening the hatch, he scrambled frantically out into the other vessel and lay on the floor.

As soon as his head cleared, he sat up and examined his surroundings. "Okay..."

* * *

_**So, long chapter to make up for the last one. And totally based around Gordon. I feel cruel... *cue evil laugh* **_

_**Does everything as far as the timing and depths add up now? I tried my best, really. But seriously, let me know if I'm wrong.**_

_**Reviews?**_

_**Kat x**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hey guys! I'm actually pretty pleased with myself - I've completely finished writing this story, I just need to upload it correctly. I am rubbish when it comes to attempting to save and upload things. Last time I accidentally deleted my Dad's work files. And no, he was not impressed.**_

* * *

"What the hell are you talking about? You can't just give up! What if suddenly Gordon manages to get Thunderbird 4 to the surface, and we're not there?" Alan crossed his arms, glaring at projected holographic image of his brother, despite the slightly guilty feeling that probed at the back of his mind that he wasn't being fair. He ignored it. Because _really_, this was his way of coping.

"Alan, we're not giving up. And that's a pretty big _if_."

"He has seventy-two hours of oxygen in total if he doesn't do anything stupidly heroic or something, and we both know that time's nearly up." Alan started pacing the carpet again. One of the AI's helpfully announced that he was wearing the floor thin, and that maybe he should try and get some rest?

He muted the AI with a quick flick of his watch towards the speaker in the corner, shooting it his furious glare. Scott sat back in his chair on Thunderbird 5 and watched, the familiar worried expression setting into place.

"We're all exhausted, okay? I'm not risking Virgil and John's lives by sending them out there again, especially given that the engine part for '2 still hasn't arrived. Flying out the remaining winds of the hurricane with problems like that would be suicide, and you've fixed Thunderbirds 2 and 3 enough times to know that."

"So let me go out in Thunderbird 3. I can search, '3's got the updated 5.6 version of the scanning equipment, '2 only has the 5.32 version at the moment. I have a better chance. I can be looking whilst Virg and Johnny rest."

Scott ran a hand through his hair, flicking a holograph out his line of vision as more information on the weather conditions in Bermuda flashed up on the screen. "No Alan."

"I can find him! Just let me have a go. Please?"

Scott glared at his younger brother. Pulling the '_please'_ and innocent wide-eyed look was just plain unfair, especially given the circumstances. The door to the lounge opened as John entered.

"I thought I told you go and get some rest?" Scott asked him with a pointed look.

John shrugged, an unknown expression crossing his face for a moment as he cast the sea outside a thoughtful glance. "Couldn't sleep," He replied, settling down on the sofa and drawing up his legs next to him like a cat.

"Scotty, just give me a chance?" Alan was finally paying attention to his brother, who buried his head in his hands.

"Jesus Al, don't do this right now. Oh for crying out loud," Scott muttered, punching one of the holographs and groaning as his fist passed through it.

"Why won't you listen to me? I have the equipment to look with!"

"And unless you've suddenly been given x-ray vision then you'll find nothing. The scanners, even your version of it, aren't strong enough to allow you to see to the bottom of the ocean. There's nothing to see apart from damn sea. I know, because I've looked at those goddam waves for hours on end, and there is nothing there." John looked up from his position on the sofa to glance at his brother. Alan was perched on the window sill, staring at the waves crashing against the beach and turned to stare at him.

"But."

"But nothing. Yeah, I get you're worried. We all are. Stop taking it out on other people."

Alan leapt down from the window-sill, almost tripping over his skateboard, abandoned from the week before, and disappeared, slamming the door behind him.

"Well that could have gone better," John muttered, flopping back against the cushions, and staring up at the skylight in the ceiling, tapping the edge of the sofa with one finger.

"He's frustrated." Scott sighed. "I know how he feels."

"Fair enough. The winds have died down enough for me to pilot '3 up to you if you want? Might keep Alan from attempting to sneak out again. How he thought he could sneak out in a giant red rocket is beyond me. But hey, give the kid credit, he doesn't give up."

"I'd just drive Virgil mad by asking questions continually. I'm of more use up here replying to messages from the agents as they call in with more info that is a load of crap, but they think they're helping. Dad's got in contact with the big guys."

"FBI?"

"Yep." Scott confirmed. There was a small alert from behind him and he swung round to face it.

"Anything new?"

"Yes. New problem to add to the list. Storm surge."

"Gonna reach the hangers?"

"Probably. I can't guarantee it not reaching '1's hanger either."

"I'm on it. Let Virg know by the watches. I'm going to have to pilot '1 out of here. Where's the nearest safe-place we have to put them? Dad's other island? That's about…what, thirty odd miles away?" John un-muted the AI that was trying to signal to him by flashing the spotlights in the kitchen, whilst waiting for the reply.

"Forty-three if you want to be exact. Just mentioning. You're right though." Scott narrowed his eyes at the new flashing amber light. "Right, sorry, but how the hell do you cope with these things?" He batted another holograph out the way. "They're like little midget harbingers of doom. I hate them."

John smirked. "You have them in '1."

"Not nearly as many. Jeez."

Virgil appeared in the doorway, his hair still ruffled from when he'd been asleep a few minutes before, and he still looked tired. At least he'd managed to rest for a bit. Scott and John both envied him.

"What's the uh…situation?" He yawned, almost tripping down the stairs.

Scott didn't acknowledge him for a second, too busy drawing up the projected image of the hurricane. It was still hanging around and no matter what John had said, flying any of the Thunderbirds through it, let alone '1 was hardly advisable.

The readouts flickered at the left side of the screen, and then were matched up automatically with a quick command to the height of '2 and '1's hangers. The figures were not looking good and when the computers finished analysing the data from the info readouts it was all too obvious they didn't match up.

The hangers were going to flood and they needed to move quickly if they wanted to rescue the vital equipment they had stored there.

"What's happening?" Virgil asked looking confused as he attempted to button up his shirt one handed. John clicked his fingers and the AI brought up the holographic imaging of the rising waters, just as Scott showed him the readouts.

"The hangers are flooding. Can someone call Brains up to the study by the way? I need to talk to him. Fly '3 up to me and put everything in her hanger. Virgil, get Thunderbird 2 to the next island we have with a security outlet for IR tech, the coordinates are programmed into your radar and navigation systems now. Any problems with then engines even flying that short distance, and you call it in immediately, got it?"

Virgil yawned, and nodded. "Yeah: got it. I'm on it. Give me a second."

John sighed as his brother closed his eyes again. "Virg, he means that '2's about to get flooded."

"Wait, what?" Virgil leapt to his feet.

"Storm surge. Hangers flooded. You fly to '2 to the next island. Go." Scott muttered

Virgil disappeared behind the hidden entrance to the hanger, grabbing a hoodie on his way past and yawning again.

"Johnny, just leave '1. The hanger's already flooding, it's insane trying to fly her in these conditions. I've tried it myself in the past. I'll fix her, with Brains and Virg, and possibly Al. It'll be fine."

John shook his head, reaching forward to turn off the holographic projector. "Not a chance."

* * *

Bright white light tinged with an icy blue reflected off the cold metal sides of corridor inside the submarine. Gordon first became aware of the corridor leading away from him and the lights when he became fully aware of his surroundings. There was a chill to the air and the floor beneath his feet crunched when he clambered to his feet. A closer inspection revealed that there was a thick layer of frost glazing the panels.

Shivering, he glanced around, noting every shadow, every possible hiding place for another human. Instincts told him immediately that there was no one there, although quite why a massive submarine like this was drifting through the dark oceans utterly deserted, he had no idea. It made no sense, in any way he looked at it. Even if there had been a radiation leak, if this was some type of scientific vessel for the government then there would be…bodies. Yet there was nothing.

Breathing in the fresh oxygen compared to the lack of air on board '4, Gordon glanced back through the hatch to where Thunderbird 4 sat, seemingly lifeless and he couldn't help but feel slightly disconcerted that he was still the only living human on the two vessels.

"Hello?" He called out, and when his voice came echoing back to him, bounding off the hard, frozen walls, his theory that he was alone was proven. A sharp pang of hunger reminded him of his next important need, other than water.

His years in W.A.S.P.S. had seen him spending months at a time in submarines and Gordon was well acquainted with the layout of most subs. This sub was no different to that layout and after a couple of turns he came face to face with the end of the corridor. There was a large, grey door with rusted hinges and large bolts riveting the grey metal. It was frozen shut, ice and frost and a strange frozen liquid that covered it in an unyielding blanket of cold.

"Oh, great," he muttered sarcastically, rubbing the back of his head again where the throbbing pain from a few hours before when he'd been knocked out had apparently returned. A quick shove against the door proved fruitless and he sank to the floor, deciding that someone clearly had it in for him. He took a couple of steps back and then flung himself against the barrier, determined to get past it. He needed to get past it, to get to the next section if he had planned everything out correctly.

Considering the ice that curled around the lock of the door, surrounding the frame and holding the door firmly shut, it was clear he was going to have his work cut out. There was one of the familiar, important fire help boxes on the wall, with an axe inside. Intended really for just breaking past glass, or plastic doors not frozen metal ones, but it would do.

The frozen liquid splintered, icy fragments breaking away and sinking into his shoulder causing him to stumble backwards, cursing. It allowed the door to be freed and Gordon decided that although he'd hurt his shoulder, it had been worth it.

The hallway continued down, with several doors leading off to rooms at the side. There was one open, the old hinges rusted and cracked. There was a stream of cold white light spilling out from a doorway that was larger than the rest, closing off what was clearly access to the most important room.

His shoulder was throbbing painfully sending shivers down his spine, and he held his arm close to his chest, limping down the corridor. The room with the door opened was the most logical place to start searching for food and supplies as any of the rooms along the corridor could be a store room.

Gordon entered the room and glanced around, hoping inwardly that there would be something edible inside. Even one of those stupid ration bars that tasted disgusting that were in all the emergency kits and were commonly used on survival training exercises would be better than nothing at all.

"Lucky guess," he whispered, grinning as he saw the kitchen in front of him, signalling that the food hall was somewhere nearby. But then again, he didn't really care about sitting down to a table to eat - he was hungry and it wasn't like anyone was there to see him. Apart from the angler fish, but he had no idea where about the little creature had gone.

_And_ his mystery guest on Thunderbird 4, he added silently in his mind. The experience of someone else inboard his yellow sub and the eyes watching him had unnerved him, he had to admit. And there was definitely something strange going on. Paranormal or not, he had proof that someone had attacked him. The wound on the back of his head where he'd been hit was a fact in itself.

"And voilà! Food!" He announced, opening one of the many cupboards in the kitchens.

For the first time in what seemed like days, Gordon Tracy allowed himself to relax slightly, grinning. After all, things seemed to be looking up...

* * *

The door creaked open slowly, and Thomas Winters' fingers stopped flying over the keys, the rhythmic tapping pausing as his hands hovered over the keyboard. The light flooding the desk from the computer screen dimmed slightly as he swiped the screen, activating_ hibernate mode_.

He looked across to the doorway where the young man stood nervously, his brown hair swept out of his face and ruffled where he'd been running his hands through in nervous anticipation. A pair of wide brown eyes stared out at the displays and holographs in the room.

Thomas Winters gave a small cough, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Excuse me, sir, but we've received news of a vessel in distress. Off the coast of Bermuda apparently." Sam Delmar brushed a stray thread off the sleeve of his uniform shifting from foot to foot as he waited for further instruction.

Thomas Winters swung his chair round to face the younger man, inspecting the nervous policeman from head to toe. _A new recruit, fresh out of training,_ the senior detective labelled him instantly, his eyes taking in every tiniest detail. _Probably his first job and from the way he's eager to impress me, it must be a pretty big one as well. Probably some important business person with a load of cash in danger. Well, we'll soon found if whoever-this-new-recruit's-name-is, is after this guy's money as a reward for when he's paid or genuinely wants me to like him._

"Yes, Delmar?" Thomas always made a point of tactfully letting the newbies know who was the boss, a small reminder that they weren't to get too boastful. They still had a lot to learn.

Sam looked flustered, blushing slightly and started tapping instead, his fingers beating a steady drum on his belt. "Well...you see Sir: this isn't any old mission..."

"For Pete's sake, spit it out, lad!" Thomas practically growled at the officer. Sam straightened up, meeting the senior man's gaze squarely.

"It's International Rescue. Their submarine's in trouble, but they've lost all contact with it. They, um, appear to have lost it..."

* * *

Scott had been speaking to one of the agents when the pink holograph flashed, an image of the caller appearing next to the vid call screen asking if he was free to speak or not. He paused, before apologising to the agent, promising he'd call back before ending the connection and connecting the call to his friend.

Penelope's image appeared on the vid call screen, looking worried. "I saw the text message Tin-Tin received. Why didn't you tell me the rescue had gone wrong? What's happened to Gordon?" The concern etched into her features was all too clear.

"I'm sorry," Scot sighed. "I just…there's so much happening, I did mean to contact you. Sorry Penelope."

She smiled gently, shaking her head at him, a strand of blond hair coming un-tucked from behind her ear. "You're worried, I know. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do? What's actually happened?"

He gave a bitter laugh at that. "We lost Thunderbird 4."

"Lost it? Scott, how can you have possibly lost Thunderbird 4? It's not exactly small."

"I know that Penny!" Scott muttered, and swung round in his chair, facing away from her.

"Are you okay?" She whispered.

"That doesn't matter," He replied, without showing his expression to her.

"What can I do? And don't say it's all under control, I won't stand for not helping, Parker already has FAB1 ready and waiting, just give me the word. Tin-Tin's taking Thunderbird S back to Tracy Island as we speak. She's timed to arrive around the same time as Jeff I think."

"Can I ask you to start looking in FAB1?" He turned to face her, looking hopeful. "We'll be out of contact for a few hours at least. We're right in the full force of a hurricane and the island's...well, it's flooding."

"Flooding?" She gasped. "What do you mean, flooding? Is everyone alright?"

"At the moment, yes."

"Scott!" Alan's image appeared on the over screen as he activated his vid-link on his watch. He was drenched completely, and looked like a drowned rat. Casting a glance over the image on the computer, he waved, offering Penelope a brief smile before returning his attention to Scott. "We're going to need to know who you want to go up to Thunderbird 5 in '3 so we can start putting everything in '3's silo."

Scott took a moment to take in the appearance of his youngest brother. Alan was totally wet, covered in mud and his hair was sticking up in spikes like one of the singers that Tin-Tin went to see on the mainland.

"Okay Allie. Penny, I have to go."

"Of course Scott. I'll speak to you soon. Stay safe!"

"I'll try. Bye." He cut the connection and stood up. "I'd like Tin-Tin to go when she reaches you, which should be in the next ten minutes. If you want to go with her, then that's fine, although I could do with your help down here."

Alan nodded. "Sure, that's fine. I'll tell Tin-Tin. She's flown '3 by herself before anyway."

He cleared the vid-screen from his watch, and disappeared towards the hanger, walking straight into John. His brother looked as bedraggled as he did.

"Tin-Tin's back, Thunderbird S is okay. We left her on high ground, near the old landing strip. Remember we left because it was too steep an approach? Well with Thunderbird S' VTOL's, it's possible to use."

Alan nodded, flicking a strand of blond hair out of his eyes. "Yeah, does she know the plan?"

"Yep. And there she goes." He motioned to the window.

A loud rumble announced Thunderbird 3's take off. John paused still worried about the fact that Thunderbird 3 wasn't designed to fly in the extreme conditions that surrounded the Island. Thunderbird 2 had had trouble, and she was an aircraft that had flown in similar weather.

The red rocket was struggling to gain altitude, her engines almost wailing as they gained more momentum. Finally, the rumbling faded and John checked the computers, double checking the Thunderbird's ascent, until he saw her emerge into the safety of Space.

A low whistle came from the doorway. "Thank God," Virgil announced. "You know, for a moment, I was really worried. Brains was saying how she hadn't been tested in this weather...Thunderbird 3 that is, not Tin-Tin."

John laughed, watching Alan tell the AI to keep an eye on Thunderbird S before running down the stairs towards the hanger, where the water was still rising at an alarming rate.

"I need some help!"

"Coming!" John yelled back, following him out of the room.

"Are we all okay about the equipment? What about Thunderbird 2?" Scott called in from the holographic projector.

Virgil instantly became worried again. "Scott...the equipment is fine. But if I fly Thunderbird 2 in this...if Thunderbird 3 struggled, and she had stronger engines, then what problems am I going to have?"

"Are you worried?"

"I'm not scared!"

"I never said you were," Scott soothed, although he had to admit, he wished he didn't have to send his brother out in the weather.

"Okay," Virgil un-clenched his fists.

"Virgil!" John came skidding into the study, grabbing his brother by the shoulder, Alan trailing behind him, looking equally concerned. "If you don't want your Thunderbird flooded, then you have to go right now!"

"What?" Virgil looked like he'd been slapped as he drew back, staring at his older brother.

"The hanger's flooded. Come on!" Alan urged, yanking Virgil towards the silo. Scott cast an anxious glance back at the monitors that were displaying worrying signs of the conditions worsening, and continued watching the readouts, determined that no one else was going to get hurt.

* * *

Thunderbird 5 was sending a warning. Her specially adapted and highly advanced equipment picked up on a vibration on Thunderbird 2 and that the hurricane was worsening. The wind speeds were phenomenal and with sudden up drafts and crosswinds, the conditions were not meant for flying in.

The warm red glow appeared almost cheerful and it stayed still, an ominous sign that something was going to happen for the worse. Thunderbird 5 remained silent for the first five minutes and when her current monitor failed to come and check what was wrong, the satellite automatically started a quiet alarm, ringing through the entire craft.

"Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 3," Scott called through to Tin-Tin. Onboard Thunderbird 3, the young woman was still gripping the controls tightly so that her knuckles were white.

"Reading you Strength Five," she reported. "Requesting clearance for docking sequence."

"FAB." Scott confirmed and swung his chair round to face earth, the unfamiliar ringing sound only just registering as he spotted the red light that was blinking at him. "Oh damn," he whispered, remembering the engine trouble Virgil had reported on the last rescue before Gordon had gone missing. With the hurricane grounding all air traffic in the area, they'd been unable to get parts so that they could fix the green aircraft, which now resulted in Thunderbird 2's engines being unable to go to maximum power.

"Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island. Come in please," Scott contacted the Island, unaware of Tin-Tin until she tapped him on the shoulder. "Oh hi."

"What's wrong?"

"That," he motioned to the red alarm that was glowing softly, winking at him with an almost hypnotic effect. Thunderbird 5 grew more urgent in her desperate attempt to tell Scott that Thunderbird 2 was in trouble, and that the weather conditions were going to get worse.

"This is Tracy Island, receiving you. Go ahead Scott." John looked almost annoyed, his posture stiff as he practically glared at the screen that displayed the image of his brother and Tin-Tin.

"Has Thunderbird 2 taken off yet?" Scott demanded. Tin-Tin clutched at the back of the chair, hoping for good news.

John looked at them. "Why?"

"I've got an alarm up here. The weather conditions are deteriorating fast and it'd be dangerous and certainly a rough ride anyway but Virgil's got that problem with the engines, remember? Well it's getting worse. Just let '2 get flooded, we can always repair her. There's no way Thunderbird 2 will be able to stay in the air long enough to get back safely."

"Oh..." John had paled, his face draining of all colour giving the appearance of a ghost like figure as he stared in horror at his eldest brother.

"Has he taken off yet?" Scott closed his eyes, hoping that his instincts were wrong, but inwardly knowing that he'd already wasted five minutes in not noticing the alarm beforehand.

"Yes. Yes, he has."

* * *

_**Oh, you thought I'd leave out Thomas and Sam this time round? Nah, I need them for the rest of the plot to come together, so sorry f you don't like them. Actually, just sorry for the OC's full stop. There's a lot more of them than usual. **_

_**Kat x**_

_**Reviews?**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Took down my Christmas tree today, on the 3 January. Very depressing. Will now go and sob in a corner somewhere.**_

* * *

"Ah food! How I've missed you!" Gordon grinned, taking a bite out of the apple. He held it aloft, and frowned at it. "Although you're not exactly Kyrano's cooking. But nothing can beat that..." He smiled, remembering the meals he'd had in the past.

The next thing he had to do, he decided as he sat with his back against the wall, eating the apple like he hadn't eaten for a year, was to find the main control room. Then he'd be able to get the heat back on and try and figure out whereabouts he was. Maybe, if he was lucky, then he'd be able to get the radios working although in a submarine of this size it would be very difficult to get the repairs that needed to be done completed with just him, especially if the ice had got into everything which seemed highly likely from what he'd seen so far.

He'd already eaten and forced his way into another couple of rooms, able to open them with a bit of help from the tools he'd had in his survival kit on-board Thunderbird 4, discovering what was clearly a bedroom of one of the 'ghost crew' as Gordon had dubbed them.

So far, the sub had followed the basic layout of most submarines and water craft that Gordon had been on and learnt about. The most obvious place for the Main Control Room was the larger room at the end of the hall. Tossing his apple into a deserted trash can in the corner; he got up and shrugged on one of the thick winter coats from the wardrobe in the room. The fact there was a thick coat there anyway surprised him, making him wonder where the craft had been heading before something had clearly happened, turning the submarine into a modern day Mary Celeste.

The hard layer of frost spread across the floor like an icy carpet, covering the entire corridor. The ice crystals crunched under Gordon's feet and he shivered, wondering what had made the temperature drop so drastically that everything would freeze like this. It was as if there had been a mini ice age under water, turning this craft into some type of fossil. Instantly Gordon thought of the mammoths that had been frozen solid and felt laughter bubble up inside him. The thought of the submarine as a mammoth just tickled his humour although ordinarily he'd have thought it was pretty lame.

"Guess that's what days without human company do to you," he whispered, still smiling.

The frost had covered the lights, surrounding everything which had resulted in the lights still working, the thick glass that cased them ensured they weren't frozen themselves, but the light had to shine through the ice which resulted in the light being a harsh, pure white light with the pale cold blue rather than the warm, normal one with a slight golden tinge that light bulbs always seemed to have.

Gordon slipped, landing slightly heavier than he'd have liked on a thinner patch of ice, his injured ankle sending a lightening bolt of pain up his leg. The frozen liquid spilt, a long crack running through it which opened up with a high pitched crack and the floor panels below were revealed. He knelt down and picked up a fragment of the ice, rotating it slowly between his fingertips. It was a pale blue in colour and appear glow like there were tiny segments of frozen stars trapped inside, shining still.

Certain that it wasn't ordinary frozen water, Gordon dropped the piece of frozen liquid and hurriedly wiped his fingers on the sleeve of the coat. He wasn't allergic to anything he think of off the top of his head, without checking his medical record, but he couldn't run the risk that the frozen liquid was toxic, or harmful in any way. Virgil certainly hadn't ever seemed concerned when forcing him to drink some concoction of medicine when he'd had the flu after that Russian rescue last autumn.

He put his hands in the coat pockets out of habit, and then remembered it wasn't his coat. Discovering something inside, he pulled out a pair of gloves and frowned, whoever the coat had belonged to, they had been planning on visiting somewhere cold, which was unusual for a sub mission.

Placing his now gloved hand on the door, he shoved without much force, surprised when the door opened fairly easily. Blinking in the brighter light, he looked around.

"Well...at least I found the control room. Even if it does look like you wanted experience the Arctic." Gordon spoke aloud, brushing his hand against the ice again.

The controls were all covered in a layer of the strange substance apart from one which looked disturbingly like someone had been there and used it recently. He crossed over, and discovered it was the radio panel. He replayed the last outgoing transmission.

"Come in control. Someone? Anyone? We're in real trouble! Help! I...I'm the last one left! Please? This Aqua Marine II! Mayday! Please! I..." The transmission cut off and Gordon shivered backing away and looking around, a sudden longing for home overwhelming him, fighting with the part of him that loved to solve mysteries. At least he'd been watching several of John's old box sets of BBC's Sherlock.

"What happened to you? Where did you go?"

* * *

"Get me an aircraft ready and waiting on the Tarmac immediately," Thomas barked, heading down the corridor, half listening as the team behind him started bustling around, their manager, a slim, blond haired woman called Felicity, yelling orders. He shoved open the heavy metal door to the main IT Department Room, ignoring the incredulous stares he got from shocked employees, their wide eyed gazes drifting over him. He stormed over to the main desk in the office, where a young man with brown hair was lounging around in his chair chewing on the end of his pencil, the picture of boredom.

"Reeves!" Thomas snapped and the young man, jumped, startled, accidentally biting down hard on the pencil with an audible crack and screwing up his features as the bitter taste filled his mouth.

"Uh, yeah, Thomas?"

_Such disrespect! Although, he is a good friend of mine... _Thomas leant forwards, resting his elbows on the desk and he watched in amusement while his friend attempted to rid the taste in his mouth by swigging down a bottle of some orange fizzy energy drink and then attempted to spit it out into a tissue in disgust.

"Listen here Reeves, I want information on the sea around Bermuda. I need information: any craft in the area, sea conditions, weather, depth of the ocean, hell, I don't even care if you give me information on a blooming satellite that's above that particular area at the precise second, but I need it within an hour. Have I made myself clear?"

The younger man raised his eyebrows lifting his feet up to rest upon the desk, kicking the laptop to one side as he yawned. "We're good friends you know. I have a name, I'm not a dog. And since when have I ever let you down?"

"Okay, okay...Oscar, I'm sorry. I need a team as well, if you can organise that. And I need the best; this mission's to help International Rescue."

Oscar instantly snapped into action, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He didn't glance up as he yelled out to a woman on the other side of the room: "Amy! I need a team of six! Make it a good one! You know who I mean!"

"Yes sir!" She called back and Oscar smiled, glancing back at Thomas.

"Anything else? And who's going to be your right hand man for this mission?"

Thomas sighed, knowing he was going to regret taking the guy he'd chosen. Oscar's reaction was going to be priceless, that at least was a fact. "Delmar. Sam Delmar."

"But that's a newbie!" Oscar blurted out, staring at his friend, true to form. "Okay, I'm sorry. But don't shove him off a cliff if you're trying to prove he's not up to field work, like you did with me."

"It was an accident!" Thomas protested, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on.

"Sure! Now go!"

Thomas didn't need telling twice. He dashed out the room, as Oscar yelled after him: "And don't fail this! Go help those guys." He sighed, glancing down as his mobile vibrated with an incoming call. "God knows they deserve it."

* * *

For the first few minutes, Virgil dared to let himself think that he was going to be able to land Thunderbird 2 again without any problems. Holographic images remained a comforting green, and a few were tinged amber. The massive green aircraft was being buffeted around, but so far he hadn't run into any serious turbulence. Then the radio started breaking up and static filled the connection.

"This...i...Tracy..." The radio was more or less dead, and Virgil considered turning it off completely. Red holographs flashed around him before turning pale and blinking out. The weather reports coming through from Thunderbird 5 stopped and then the lights flickered and went out.

"Oh hell," Virgil leaned forwards, double checking the engine readings, cursing when he saw them. There was no way he was going to be able to land safely if he didn't have more power. Most of the things in Thunderbird 2 ran off the engine power like most aircraft, which meant he was going to have to stop some things. He shut down the lights as the instruments and controls glowed anyway, thanks to a safety feature that Brains had installed after an incident where he'd lost all power to the lights and had been only been able to keep flying thanks to how well he knew Thunderbird 2. He cut all power to the Infirmary, Pod and passenger area as he wasn't using them and then checked the engines again.

For a moment, everything stopped. The wind died down and Virgil stopped what he was doing to glance out the window, wondering what the hell was going on. Thunderbird 2 was cruising in a patch of air between two clouds and in an instant he knew what was going to happen next, inwardly cursing his bad luck. A sudden massive gust of wind grabbed the aircraft, shaking it. The engines, not having enough power to keep the Thunderbird in the air, began shutting down, and Thunderbird 2 began to fall from the skies.

* * *

"Hurry up!" Scott yelled at Alan over the video link on his watch. His youngest brother was struggling to free something from in the Hanger, which was filling with water quicker than they'd planned.

Alan gave him a shrug, shouting something which was lost in the wind. Scott frowned, trying to hear him. "What?" The audio on the imaging kept breaking up making communication all but impossible. Another flashing holograph alerted him to another problem, slightly more urgent, and he cursed as he spotted the readouts from Thunderbird 2.

Alan was all but giving up on the piece of new tech yet to be used out on rescue but incredibly useful for fixing the Firefly after wildfires. Kicking it in frustration, he yelped, surprised when someone grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him to the ground. A second later, a larger piece of what he guessed had once been part of the roof panels went flying through the space where he'd been a moment before. "Thanks, um..." He twisted round to see who it was. "John."

"Brains needs help," John told him. "Go and help him. I've got this."

"Where is he?"

"Outside."

"What?" Alan stared at him in horror before running through the hanger, the water up to his waist, making it hard to move, heading for his friend. His watch vibrated, signalling with an incoming message from Thunderbird 5:

_Get back in the house now! Serious winds coming!_

Alan ignored it, refusing to leave anyone in danger. Besides, they'd been in worse situations before, it was all too easy to imagine the entire island under water. He ran for the entrance, where the water pressure was becoming too much for part of the hidden entrance. It was groaning in the effort of staying upright, pieces of it breaking away. Alan dove under the gap and came up the other side, coughing and gasping for air.

The wind was howling around him and it was hard to see where anything was. He could see the vague outline of someone on the other side of the runway, struggling with something that Alan recognised as one of the key components used to repair Thunderbird 2.

"Brains!" He yelled. The scientist glanced up and then motioned to the equipment, mouthing help. "Okay, I'm coming!" He kept low to the ground, making his way over to his friend, grabbing the end of the equipment and edging back to the hanger, just as his watch vibrated again.

_Forget the equipment! Get to safety!_

"Brains! We have to leave it!"

"If we leave it, then we won't be able to repair Thunderbird 2 in time for getting her back to the island before she's discovered."

"I'll help!"

"John! Get back inside! That's an order! All of you get back inside." Scott yelled through the now reasonably fixed audio link.

John shrugged. "Then sack me." He grabbed the side of the component and they started moving closer to the cliff face when a different warning sounded.

"What is that?" Alan yelled.

"Thunderbird 1's hanger warning alert. It's flooding." Brains replied, frowning. John's watch vibrated again:

_20_ _seconds_

"I've got to get '1 out of here," John announced, dropping his end of the equipment and jumping over fallen trees, running for the pool area. The rain clouding his vision, Alan stared after his brother in shock.

"John! Come back!"

_15 seconds_

Brains shoved the equipment indoors as best he could, Alan helping and pulling it further to safety, dragging it towards 3's hanger. The wind was getting stronger and the sky was darker.

_10 seconds_

John had reached the hanger entrance to find it blocked. The corridor he'd come down was flooding higher than it was safer to swim through and he knew from experience how it was all too easy to accidentally take a breath. Debris from the decking and palm trees had fallen through the broken areas of the ceiling, destroying the other exit. Turning, he found he could no longer see Alan and Brains. There was a final emergency exit, linked to the main hangers by a route down behind wall of '3's silo and he tried to head back that way, slipping on the wet floor, the soles of his shoes not having enough grip.

_5 seconds_

Alan started out over the floor, to go and find John, the swirling water making it hard to move fast. Brains grabbed, him pulling him back.

"Don't get both of you in danger!" The scientist yelled, his stutter long forgotten in face of a hurricane. He yanked his friend inside just as the winds hit, grabbing part of the cliff face and tearing it away, pulling trees from the ground and taking away part of the house. Attempting to swim to the side of the hanger, his grip on Alan's hoodie keeping his friend's son safe was lost and he found he could no longer see the young astronaut.

"Brains! Over here!" Alan was standing up on a wall, his hood pulled over his head as he flashed his watch light several times. He activated the door, throwing himself down through it after them. The door slid shut with a hissing sound like a vexed cobra.

They stared back at the door, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Thunderbird 3's hanger seemed empty without the massive red Thunderbird that usually stood in it. Scott activated the vid-link again, attempting to reboot comms with the AI's help.

"Wait, where's John?" Alan looked younger with his hair plastered to his face, Scott thought.

"I..." Brains trailed off, instead nodding to the wailing winds the pounded the doors. Alan shook his head.

"No." He whispered. "Not John as well."

Scott watched him walk away, wondering where everything had gone so wrong. "Scott?"

He turned to face Brains, who looked horrified. "Yes?"

"W-what about Virgil?"

_Oh God. No_. He'd just sent his brother out without any help, without anyone else there into one of the worst hurricanes the world had known. The static started taking over the weak signal again and despite Scott's attempts otherwise, both the vid-link and the audio blinked out.

"We've lost contact with Thunderbird 5," Alan reported quietly, dropping the computer onto the floor and walking over to where Thunderbird 3 should be, standing with his head bowed before turning and staring at the doors again. "Why is everything going wrong? All we ever did was help people."

* * *

It was getting warmer, but very slowly, the heat slowly creeping over the walls with reaching tendrils. The steady dripping of the strange liquid as it melted was hypnotising and Gordon nearly fell asleep, crouched with his back to the heater, trying to warm up, still cold despite the thick jacket and jumper he was wearing. The crew's rooms were certainly full of useful things.

The liquid appeared to evaporate as it melted, which made Gordon wonder whether he ought to head back to Thunderbird 4 so he wouldn't breathe it. But he'd have to find an oxygen tank first and since he'd already touched it, he didn't think it could do too much harm. Even if it did, he was more than likely still not going to make it home alive. The odds were not in his favour, to quote Tin-Tin's favourite movie.

The warmth was slowly enveloping the cabin and he stood up, using his knife from the survival pack to slowly scrape away the ice from the controls and screens. Holograms blinked into life and he scrambled backwards, shocked by the sudden appearance of something that seemed almost too familiar compared to the sub which seemed like it belong in a separate universe.

Turning back to the heater, he had an idea. He took off the metal grate which protected it, revealing a thick layer of dust, which he brushed away. Immediately, a gust of hot air surrounded him and the ice surrounding him splintered, a sickly fog like substance rising from it and evaporating, leaving him coughing and covered his mouth and nose with the sleeve of the jacket.

The radio didn't have enough power to make a transmission yet, so Gordon settled for exploring the rest of the sub. The ice was slowly withdrawing which left behind a submarine that looked eerily like everyone had left in a hurry, just a few seconds before. Maybe they had. With the entire strange goings on, it really wouldn't surprise him. Not much did anymore.

Treading lightly on some of the floor panels that still had the frozen liquid on, he continued onwards, heading towards a corridor that seemed to feel warm. Pressing the back of his hand against the door, he frowned as the metal felt warm, almost as if there was a fire behind it, although that was impossible, he knew that, especially as the rest of the vessel was encased in freezing ice. It defied the laws of physics or something like that. Should have asked John. His brother was such a geek at times.

He shifted the door open, and it slid to the side, grating on something on the floor. Leaning down, Gordon picked up the piece of metal that had caught on the bottom of the door and twisted it round, trying to figure out what it was, or at least what it had once been in the past, before the sub had become a ghost ship. He held it up to one of the too-bright white spotlights and frowned at the glinting item in his hand.

The misshapen piece of metal appeared to be a gold ring. The way it had been deformed hinted that it had been in some sort of burning hot experience, although that couldn't be. Gordon wondered whether the strange liquid had anything to do with it. Slipping the ring into his pocket so that he could study in further detail later, he glanced up and jerked backwards as he came face to face with the lifeless, staring eyes of one of the ex members of crew. The man's skin was burnt slightly as he lay, face to face with Gordon.

Stumbling backwards in horror, he realised that whoever the man had been, he had been the one to make the transmission for help, as he had said he was the only one left. He felt sick. For a moment he had to fight the urge to curl up in a corner and freak out. Like that would help anyone.

"What were you trying to escape from?" He wondered aloud, still feeling sick. The man's expression was one of pure terror and he looked as though he were clawing for a way to drag himself away from something, or even someone. Gordon caught himself looking over his shoulder in the direction the guy had been staring and shivered. Suddenly he felt the overwhelming desire to head back to Thunderbird 4, as he'd left the hatch open, allowing his sub to fill up with fresh oxygen. Well, as fresh as he could call it if it was coming from an abandoned sub that had been drifting through the darkness for what could have been decades. He had no idea.

Breaking into a jog, he flung himself out into the corridor, as far away from the staring eyes as he could. Leaning against the wall, he pulled out the ring, examining it. The fact it had belonged to the dead man now gave it a sinister appeal, which was a factor that made Gordon long for Tracy Island, or for one of his brothers to be there with him.

For a split second, he was certain he saw something standing next him, with a smirk on its face. Instantly, he jumped, blinking, but the figure was gone.

"I'm going crazy," he moaned, when the lights flickered and died. A moment later, something cold brushed past him and he got the feeling of eyes on him.

"_Hello_..." A soft whisper echoed through the corridor and Gordon allowed himself to run for Thunderbird 4, where he knew he wasn't going to find any freaky dead people. He hoped, anyway.

Something wet dripped from the ceiling above and he remembered the liquid. Maybe when the lights went out and the heat, it turned to a liquid again? Was the heat out though? It had certainly turned cold all of a sudden, the ice curling forwards and snaking past the lights.

Something reached out and grabbed at his shoulder, Gordon could feel it, and he knew there had been no one else on the sub. Gasping for air, he went to fling himself through the hatch, when he crashed into something soft and blurry. Glancing up at the silhouetted figure that stood in the shadowy corridor in front of him, he couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on?

* * *

_**You see? Parts of this are exactly the same as the original. Possibly because I'm lazy. **_

_**Reviews?**_

_**Kat x**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**I'm meant to writing an essay on engineering for a project right now. So what do I do? Log onto Fanfiction and start reading through stories for the next half an hour at least. Damn.**_

* * *

Sam sprinted down the airstrip, his backpack hung over his shoulders and swinging from side to side behind him as he hurried towards the streamlined grey aircraft that stood on the tarmac in front of him. Scorch marks from aircraft tires lined the runway ahead of them. It was far too hot for mid autumn.

"Hey Sam," Laura, a blond haired officer, who'd been in training the same time as Sam but had been given a job earlier than him, as he'd been in the Air Force for a while, jumped out from the aircraft, dashing over to him. "Are you coming?"

"Appears so," he replied, excitement making him run faster until he had reached her. Laura grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him on-board, her hair curled around her face.

"So what's going on? We haven't been told anything over that the fact we had to get ourselves here quick if we wanted to keep our reputations."

"Really?" Sam frowned, brushing back a strand of hair that refused to lie down, instead sticking up like it had been hit by a thunderbolt. He had to admit he was surprised that Thomas hadn't given the team more information. "Well, you know that submarine of International Rescue's?"

Laura nodded, distracted for a moment as the engines powered up and a curse was heard from the pilot. "We've got bad weather on the way. God dam it, where's that blooming' Winters got to?"

Thomas appeared in the shadows that surrounded the exit of the building onto the airfield and broke into a sprint, swinging himself inside. Sam instantly reached forwards, pulling the door firmly shut, relaxing as it heard the locks connect with a comforting click and the aeroplane throttled back, going to top speed as it powered down the runway, in the air in barely any time at all, the powerful engines propelling them forwards.

Sam shifted over so that Thomas could sit down and Laura sat down by the window, next to Sam, watching the wisps of cloud curling round the wing tips like candy floss at a fairground. Sunbeams reflected off the metal, blinding them every now and then.

"Hey Dan. What's our ETA?" Thomas leaned forwards in his seat, trying to hear the pilot's reply over the steady rhythmic whining of the engines as they kept the plane aloft.

The pilot shrugged, double checking his instruments on the control panel for more information. "About three hours if we carry on at this speed. If we get a good tail wind then we could cut that by half."

"Alright," Thomas sat back again, making notes on his tablet, and sending a message across to Oscar, who was supposed to be contacting their agent out there. International Rescue had been in touch to offer the help of two of their agents, a young woman from London and a middle-aged couple who lived in Bermuda.

Laura rested her head on Sam's shoulder and he couldn't help a small smile creeping onto his face. Thomas caught his eye and gave him a wink and thumbs up sign, leaving Sam wondering if the detective was as fierce as he made out. Certainly most senior people seemed to speak highly of him, including one of the main people in charge, Oscar, who said that Thomas was big softie really. His bark was supposedly worse than his bite. From Sam to make out, that bark was pretty damn terrifying, especially in his position as he'd just been recruited.

* * *

"Scott, we're losing all contact with Tracy Island," Tin-Tin reported, examining the radio frequencies with a frown, tapping one of the screens. When she had no reply, she glanced over at the eldest Tracy brother, and couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh when she saw him staring out at Earth again, lost in his own thoughts. "Scott!" She snapped and he turned, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Yes?"

"Have I finally got your attention now?" She asked, unable to keep the touch of annoyance out of her voice. Scott shot her an apologetic look, crossing back over to the main control panel, and looking over her shoulder at the warning light that reported he was losing all contact.

"I was expecting to lose contact with Thunderbird 2, but not Tracy Island." He frowned, leaning over her to adjust the controls of the contact but there was no difference. "Unless the fault's on Thunderbird 5?"

"I could try from Thunderbird 3?" Tin-Tin suggested, her hand hovering over the airlock controls. Scott shook his head.

"No, if there is a problem then I'll need your help." He told her, twisting a holograph round to zoom in on one of the dimensions of a radio controller in the back of the satellites main frame systems.

Tin-Tin stopped from where she'd been heading to the airlock to look at him expectantly, fighting to hide her smile, having known that getting him to try and fix something would take his mind off things. "Oh yes? What's your idea?"

Scott grinned, looking more like his usual self. "Well..."

* * *

Virgil used the wind to keep his Thunderbird in the air, twisting the controls to swerve to the left a touch more. He was vaguely aware that the fact he was using Thunderbird 2 as a glider was ridiculous given the aircraft's size. The wind gusts coming from the clouds below were met by the gusts from the clouds above which balanced the aircraft out. Virgil could only hope that the winds were going to hold long enough for him to try and get back to safety. Or to land somewhere with a reasonable runway.

Using his radar, which surprisingly was still working, to figure out where he was as he was basically flying blind, unable to see anything over than cloud and rain, he began losing height on purpose and then dipped his left wing, allowing the wind under the wing to avoid him tipping over completely and turned, heading back to the nearest island that Jeff owned. He found himself instinctively reaching for more engine power and cursed the bad timing the engine failure had come at.

Something loomed up in front of the cabin window and he realised at the last minute that it was the nearest island. Wondering how the others were faring on Tracy Island, he glided Thunderbird 2 to the ground and then hit the brakes as hard as possible, the wheels skidding for a few heart stopping moments and then the aircraft came to a stop.

"Oh yeah!" He punched the air, grinning. "Beat that!" Leaning back in his seat, he let out a sigh of relief. A quick look out the windows revealed that he wasn't going to be going anywhere anytime soon, even if it was just a couple of steps outside of Thunderbird 2 over to the house on the Island.

Oh well. At least he had food, even if it was slightly on the old side. He wasn't going to starve.

And while the rain pounded the Thunderbird, Virgil leaned back, his sketch pad propped up on his knees and waited out the winds.

* * *

John was crawling through the passageway, trying to keep low to the ground and not be flung somewhere, picked off his feet. The wind was deafening and couldn't actually see anything, because of the clouded rain that came crashing down around him in torrents like he was standing under a waterfall. Quite when the roof had disappeared he had no idea. The information on the hurricane's trajectory had been all wrong. He needed to complain to the AI about that afterwards.

He sunk his fingers into the mud, pulling himself forwards and then towards the corner of the swimming pool that was sinking down into the ground. In a desperate move as the gale force winds dragged him back, John threw himself forwards, landing on sinking swimming pool corner. The ground collapsed beneath him and he was suddenly falling and then with a gigantic splash, he was immersed in water that was ice cold, seeping the warmth out of him. Coughing, and gasping for air, he spotted something familiar, that wasn't underwater yet, but would be if he didn't do something soon. He kicked out, propelling himself towards Thunderbird 1, fumbling with the access code.

"Access Denied." The robotic voice announced to him and John punched it, knowing the water was rising steadily. Remembering the fingerprint recognition system, he placed his hand on it.

"Welcome John Tracy." The door slid open, and John scrambled inside, the door closing behind with a hiss. Covered in mud, and now exhausted, he fired up the engines, relying on his knowledge of Thunderbird 1 when he'd flown her in the past.

With the swimming pool quite simply no longer there, he flew Thunderbird 1 straight out, instantly feeling the wind. Pushing her to maximum thrust, he headed straight for the nearest island, after Virgil.

* * *

The first thing that came to him was that he was cold. Gordon frowned, rubbing his shoulder that seemed to throb for some reason before he remembered the splinters of ice and metal that had dug into it. He figured he should probably try and remove them before infection set in, but he still felt too light-headed. He slipped his hands into the coat pockets to try and warm up slightly, when he found some strange object. Pulling it out and seeing it gleam a dirty golden colour in the dim light, he felt the memories come flooding back to him. He looked around warily, backing up again until he hit the wall. Turning, he saw he was by the hatch of Thunderbird 4, and then he knew he hadn't been there before.

"Wow," he whispered, wondering if he really was going crazy. After days without human contact, it really wouldn't surprise him. His voice came out as a croak and he chuckled. He sounded like a frog. Or some other strange rasping or croaking creature.

The lights were still flickering every now and then, and finding it distracting, especially as it was the headache he could feel coming on, Gordon headed back to the control room, still on his guard, ready to defend himself. He didn't feel like being beaten up again.

The heating had been switched to off, which explained why it was so cold. What didn't add up was the fact he knew there no one else on the submarine. Unless...Gordon frowned, sitting with his back to the heater to try and warm up quicker. Unless it had boarded with him. He shivered, remembering the strange happenings on Thunderbird 4.

Maybe it was time to try the radio, he wondered. Reaching across to it, he felt something warm under his fingertips. Withdrawing his hand, he saw the liquid was covering the radio and that it was rusting before his very eyes. For a few minutes, he continued looking at the radio without what was happening really sinking in. Then he realised that he was losing his only chance of making contact with anyone else.

"Oh hell! No." He leapt forwards and shrugged off the coat, trying to clear away the liquid to try and save the radio. The rusted parts broke away under the fabric and Gordon felt a feeling of dread. There was no way he could get the radio back if it broke completely. Cautiously, hoping and wishing that it was okay, he removed the coat, shocked to see that the underside of the clothing was burnt, and crumbled away when he touched it. He glanced at the radio, leaning forwards to take a closer look.

The rust curled around the edges like ivy creeping over a fence but it hadn't got as far as damaging the transmission components yet. Silently thanking whoever's coat it had once been for leaving it for him to use, even though they'd have had no idea what was going to happen to it, Gordon carefully double checked the radio was still working by replaying the last transmission. The sound of the dead man's in the other room voice filled the room and it seemed strange seeing as Gordon knew the guy was now dead. One thing was for certain, it had not been an accident.

If he could find the maps, so that he could figure out where they'd been heading, then he'd be able to figure out what they'd have needed the strange liquid for. He could really do with Brains, Gordon thought grimly. Instead he was stuck on a vessel that was covered in a liquid that had managed to kill off an entire crew.

Feeling hungry, he left the room, heading back to the kitchens. Somewhere in his mind, he was vaguely aware that he was being followed by a shadow.

* * *

The darkness was furious at himself. He dug his overly sharp nails to the palm of his hands, blinking as blood trickled down and landed on his black jeans. He knew he should have killed the human when he'd had the chance. The aim of the game was kill. Yet he had kept the human alive due to some distant memory that he couldn't quite catch when he tried to remember it. It was like a water nymph, leaping from stone to stone and pebble to pebble, never staying still to be seen.

He had allowed the human to board the research sub, the very thing that his sister had been certain to tell he must protect. _'If anyone ever enters my sub then the consequences will be deadly and sinister. You must protect it at all costs. If someone makes it on board, then make sure they die knowing their mistakes.'_

The cool blade of the knife in his pocket pressed against his spine, a reminder of the task that he needed to complete. He followed the human, the knife poised. The darkness never grew tired, or weak. Yet the human was alone, and longed for company and refused to give up hope. That would be his downfall. That, and his stupid, idiotic and yet admirable bravery.

The darkness hated that.

* * *

Alan sat on the chair that normally took him up into Thunderbird 3, feeling utterly confused. His hair was drying off in spikes and he ran his hands through it in an attempt to get it to lie flat. He knew Virgil was in trouble, that was the last transmission they'd received from Thunderbird 5, but now John was missing as well, which meant that until they heard more news, they were all under the impression that it was just him and Scott left. But then again, his brothers were Tracy's. And Tracy's never gave up, Alan reminded himself, determined to keep thinking positively.

Something large hit the side of the hanger wall on the outside, resulting in a rumble like thunder. Shock waves passed through the air as something outside appeared to almost blow up, or at least that's what it sounded like. Instantly Alan crouched down low on the floor in an unconscious reaction. At the last minute, Brains ducked as well. The man hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings and was taken by surprise, accidentally lashing out as Alan went to help him. Alan ducked and Brains, realising who it was, stopped, and shot his friend a rueful glance.

"Sorry Alan. Everyone o-okay?"

"Seems to be." Alan called back, giving an affirmative nod. He felt something wet seep through his trainer, and lifted his foot, shaking water droplets away. Then he stopped, feeling a certain amount of dread as he slowly looked down at where he was standing next to the doors. Reaching down, the familiar smell of sea salt wafted up around him.

The doors were watertight, but no one had ever said that the floor was. In places where the floor had been cracked, water was beginning to enter, lapping at Alan's feet. Something else was hurled at the side of the hanger and Alan whistled nervously as he wondered how much longer the hanger to stand the sheer force of the storm. Even Brains was starting to look slightly disturbed.

Alan stared at his watch as though willing it to spring into life. The object stayed silent though, just as Alan knew it would. He closed his eyes, silently praying that his brothers would come back safely.

_Help them Mum! Please! For Dad's sake as well as ours..._

* * *

Jeff was beyond furious. He was more livid with rage now as he paced up and down the carpeted floor of the airport terminal. Surely the whole point of having a private aircraft was that you fly whenever you wanted?

Yet no flights could leave the airport. The staff couldn't allow the risk of having a plane come down due to the weather and have the blame placed on them for authorising the take-off. In the sensible part of his mind, Jeff understood that, yet he couldn't accept that he was safe, though stuck in an airport terminal whereas his sons were dealing with one of the worst hurricanes in history, and Gordon was nowhere to be found.

Natasha had contacted his phone half an hour ago. He hadn't called back. The fiery young woman would instantly come over and have a few unreasonable words with the manager. She was nothing if not over protective. She had good reason to be - Gordon had saved her life during an earthquake, and if Jeff wasn't allowed to help with the search then someone was going to have to face the wrath of her anger.

Jeff sat down on a chair, tapping his foot on the ground and clenching his fists.

"We apologise for any inconvenience," the same stupid robotic woman's voice announced over the speakers and Jeff glared across at the check-in desks.

His son was missing and they were 'sorry for any inconvenience?' Nah, he was beyond livid with anger now. He was more considering taking a laser and cutting through a window and that stupid plant pot that blocked the view and climbing into the plane so he could take off, with or without permission. Probably the latter. Actually, definitely the latter. Yeesh. Things weren't looking on the bright side at all.

Natasha's contact appeared on the screen of his mobile.

"Why are you still at the airport?" She asked him furiously, her voice sounding through his earpiece. He winced at the loud sound, earning a funny look from a security guard who was chewing on a Maoam sweet.

"They're not letting anyone fly. Can't take the risk." He replied with frustrated groan as the robotic voice reported that they apologised for the inconvenience and disruptor to flight travel.

"Bullshit." Natasha shot back, her features crossing into a frown. "I'll hack into their servers and get you in the air. Give me half an hour. Then call me back. I'll have some more info."

"FAB."

"Natasha out."

* * *

Thomas was up on his feet the minute the wheels of the plane graced the runway, scorching the tarmac with the force of the friction created when stopping so quickly. He had a feeling of regret at waking Sam and Laura. He knew that it had been a non-stop day for both of them, especially Sam. Shaking Sam's shoulder, he yanked back the door as the young man yawned, coming to his senses. A wave of heat washed over them, entering the plane faster than the air conditioning could cope with. The F-35B was built for speed, not comfort, Thomas thought grimly as he heard his shoulder click as he rotated it.

The rain that was pelting down on the runway relentlessly did nothing to cool everything down and Thomas broke into a run over to the terminal, thankful for the cool air inside. He was aware of movement at his shoulder and turned to face Sam who was offering him the radio.

"Mr Reeves for you Sir." He informed him, before heading away to join Laura again. Thomas frowned, remembering that he'd asked for Oscar to call the minute he got any information.

"Oscar?" He called into the radio, heading over to the corner where he wouldn't be disturbed as much. It was quieter as well.

"Ah, Tom. Listen, I have news about the area where the sub's gone missing."

"Oh yes?" As much as Thomas preferred to only believe things when he'd seen them with his own eyes, he'd started to genuinely wonder if the old Bermuda Triangle tales had some elements of truth in them.

"Yes but..." Oscar sounded puzzled. "There are reports of a mysterious submarine in the waters. They've been coming in for years apparently, but nothing was ever done about it. Oh and there was a large research submarine that was headed back from testing some sort of new substance found deep under the North ice cap? It went missing in the same area and no trace was ever found. There's also an incredibly deep area just off where the rescue was supposed to take place. I've tried to get in contact with International Rescue but they're not replying."

"Strange. Keep trying. And try and get me more on the supposed ghost submarine that people have been reporting. That might have a few answers. Especially if it has the capabilities of helping the Thunderbird."

"Will do. Oscar out." A mystery sub, Thomas mused as he flicked the radio off, and slid it onto his belt, crossing the cool cream floor tiles to re-join Sam. Honestly, sometimes he was beginning to wonder if it was him that had the problem!

* * *

_**And ta-da! I uploaded another chapter. Now to attempt that essay... Somehow I think Wikipedia will be used frequently this evening...**_

_**Kat x**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Warning: Do not play Outlast in a completely dark room late at night when there's been a power-cut so you can't turn the lights on even if you wanted to. I am now traumatised. Help me. *dramatic screaming***_

* * *

The noise was familiar but he couldn't seem to place it, despite his best attempts to remember. Virgil sat up in his seat, realising that he'd fallen asleep. The rumbling noise like that of distant thunder seemed to come from just behind Thunderbird 2. He knew it had some significance, and that he knew it well, but his mind had gone blank, and he couldn't remember what it actually was. It was a bit like the engines of an aircraft...

"Engines..." He spoke aloud and smiled. Now that seemed to fit. Picking up his sketch pad again, he started drawing once more, still trying to remember what the noise belonged to. Engines...he couldn't get away from the thought that it sounded like Thunderbird 1, although she was back at Tracy Island so it couldn't be. Could it?

Curiosity getting the better of him, Virgil sighed, getting up from his comfortable position on the chair and heading to the back of the Thunderbird where he had a chance of hearing the sound clearer. It did sound like Thunderbird 1...

Although the engines themselves weren't working, there was still a little power, so he turned the lights on, which given the fact it was getting dark and not just because of the hurricane, was probably a good idea. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and then he entered the code for one of the lockers, to see what food there was. He couldn't get the idea out of his head that his younger brother would have been doing the same thing in Thunderbird 4.

"Stop it," He muttered to himself. He wasn't going to continue that train of thoughts. He knew where it would lead - god knew he'd thought about it several times in the past days since they'd 'lost' Thunderbird 4. The 'what-if' scenarios were becoming all too real in his mind. Scott was probably thinking the same thing.

His watch vibrated and he connected it, surprised to see that it was John calling. "Hi Johnny. Everything okay at home?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Huh? Why not?" Virgil took in the image of his brother and stifled a laugh. His hair was drying at odd angles, brown with mud and he knew that if John could see himself then he'd be outraged. Actually, the background behind his brother seemed strangely familiar. No...No, it couldn't be...

"Because I'm not at home."

"Where are you then?" Somehow Virgil found himself thinking that he already knew the answer to that particular question.

"I'm on Thunderbird 5. Where does it look like I am? Thunderbird 1."

"Um...okay...anywhere in particular?"

"Behind Thunderbird 2. Can I come in? 'Cos it's wet in here."

Virgil stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what John was doing in a Thunderbird that wasn't meant to be flying in these conditions. Deciding that it was probably best if he just let him explain, he nodded.

"Sure. Come in the back. By the sickbay entrance - it'll be more sheltered." He cut the connection and reached forwards, flicking a switch. A faint whirring sound filter through the aircraft and the lights flickered as the power was used elsewhere for a couple of seconds before everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as it had been a few minutes before.

Hearing footsteps coming up in the cabin, Virgil flicked the switch back to how it had been a second before and then swung round in his chair to greet John.

"Hello...wow." The watch image had been kind to John - his brother actually looked like some kind of creature that had been dragged through a mudslide five times.

John glared at him. "I know what I look like. I saw that in Thunderbird 1."

"Okay, okay, sorry. Jeez." He started laughing again. "You do look weird though!"

John sat down in a chair, propping his feet up on the console, dripping water everywhere, deliberately annoying Virgil, who realised what his brother was doing a couple of seconds too late.

"Hey!" Outraged at the way his beloved Thunderbird was being treated, he threw a towel at John and motioned towards the sickbay. "Go get cleaned up! I am not cleaning up mud when this hurricane is over because you wanted to annoy me!"

John shrugged, smirking at him. "So? I'll just find some other way to annoy you!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

"I'm sure you would, I'm sure you would..." He sighed, grinning.

* * *

It was only when the door slammed behind him without him touching it that made Gordon realise there was something in the cabin with him. Kicking the wall so that the force sent the chair he was sitting in spin round, Gordon glanced round the room, not at all surprised to discover he couldn't see anything. The 'shadow' appeared to be invisible, and although he knew that it was only available to International Rescue, he was almost tempted to believe that whatever was following him had got hold of the camouflaging equipment used on Thunderbird 1.

"Hi random person," He called out, not expecting a reply as he listened carefully anyway. Suddenly the lights went out and in the pitch black, Gordon groaned. "Oh come on!" He muttered. "Not _again_." Then as suddenly as they'd gone out, the lights returned to normal as if he'd just flicked a switch off and then back on. The cabin seemed normal, or as normal as a half frozen cabin could be classified as. Casting his gaze over everything to check that there was nothing different, he noticed a small scrap of paper, so small that he barely saw it, like a feather of a fallen seagull drifting through the harsh salt waters of the ocean.

Attempting to stand up, Gordon promptly slithered to the floor, deciding that spinning round in the chair to amuse himself had not been a very good idea at all. Wow, he was bored. Opening one eye a crack, he was relieved to find that the dizziness had passed. grabbing the edge of the chair to help himself up from his awkward position in the floor that reminded him of when he'd accidentally flipped Alan's alligator upside down, he crossed the floor, edging past the icy patches that still hadn't quite thawed out yet - it would probably be another few hours yet before they did - and reached the ledge where things could be placed where the scrap of paper was.

Red ink was dripped over the paper forming nine words that weren't particular amazing, but got the message across clearly. Too clearly actually. At least for Gordon's liking. And the use of red ink reminded him too much of blood. "Maybe it's a vampire," He wondered aloud and grinned. "Oh yeah - a fictional being is really going to turn up and stalk you."

He considered that for a moment and starting laughing again. "Actually, considering that there's a random corpse stuck in the other room, that's not such a crazy idea." It felt good to be laughing again, and Gordon realised how much he missed having someone to joke around with. If only he could fix that damn radio. His fingers closing round the note, he turned it over to read the nine words that were carefully formed in careful handwriting, almost like it had been written several days before:

_I am not a random person. I am darkness._

"Oh great. I'm just going to freak out now. Don't mind me..."

* * *

"Tin-Tin?" Lying between two of the ceiling panels, Scott found himself stuck. And Tin-Tin was still in the secondary control room attempting to reboot the holographic support systems. Shifting onto his back slightly so that he wasn't relying on his shoulders, he waited for the reply that he hoped was going to come shortly. Only it didn't. He yawned, trying to think of anything other than the fact that he was out of touch with every member of his family. He wondered how the police and FBI were getting on with trying to find Gordon. Trying to slither further along so that he could free himself, he only succeeded in making himself more stuck.

"I will never understand why you like this stupid tin-can of yours so much Johnny," He muttered aloud, kicking out, and regretting it instantly as his foot came in contact with something hard. Probably another panel, he thought to himself. Oh yeah, no shit Sherlock, he added silently a moment later. Of course it was a ceiling panel. You're _in_ the ceiling. Unfortunately.

"Tin-Tin!" He shouted, wondering where the hell she'd got to. It's a space station for crying out loud. You can't go far. That's the reason Alan tends to get bored up here. Oh...that's why Tin-Tin was quiet. Her boyfriend's gone AWOL, along with everyone else. Wow, it took you this long to figure that out? That, and the fact that rebooting those systems takes hours at a time normally and she's only had twenty minutes.

"Well this sucks..." He whispered, staring up at the cold metal above him, finding it slightly disconcerting that it was the only thing protecting him from floating off into Space and dying. "Oh wow, that was cheerful." He couldn't help but laugh, which made him think of another person who used to be always laughing. He didn't believe that Gordon was dead. Not at all. Okay, so maybe it seemed impossible otherwise, but the kid was just always so alive. It was impossible to give up hope. Alan had taught him that the last time everything had gone wrong.

He wondered what would happen if all the power went out suddenly. It'd be pitch black and he had no idea how to get down from the ceiling. Well that's pretty grim, he told himself. Mind you, stuck in a dark ceiling does that to you.

His watch scraped against something as he moved his wrist and then he slapped his forehead. "Right. Yeah. Watch...I knew that." Attempting to call Tin-Tin, he punched the panel to his side when she didn't pick up, regretting it instantly as pain shot through his fist. Great. Now he was stuck in a ceiling panel with no-one knowing he was there. Well this was...interesting.

"Scott? Sorry, I finally managed to get everything re-wired."

Finally...Tin-Tin had certainly taken her time! Although actually...that had given him another idea. If Gordon had his tracker on him, and he was in deep seas, then it would take time to get a signal to Thunderbird 5, and they wouldn't notice it if the satellite wasn't focussing properly...

"Are you okay?"

"I am now." It seemed being stuck in a ceiling did have some uses after all...

* * *

The crashing sound of the waves hitting the island was beginning to get on Alan's nerves. Crouched with his knees drawn up to his chest on a higher part of the hanger with the water lapping around the floor below, he was longing for everything to go back to normal. Shivering slightly, he was relieved to realise that the water was no longer rising. But it wasn't withdrawing either, which wasn't in their favour. Waiting out a hurricane with just a scientist and an AI wasn't something that had been on his bucket list, that was for sure, Alan thought grimly, watching Brains typing something into the tablet.

He stayed crouched in the floor, sliding his hand into his hoodie pocket and drawing out his copy of the photograph of them all when they'd first moved to Tracy Island.

"Come home," he whispered, knowing no-one wouldn't hear him. Sliding his finger across his watch, his fingerprint recognised in an instant, he tried to contact John, but the signal wasn't strong enough and the message bounced back. He frowned; remembering that the watches worked by using Thunderbird 5, so no one outside was able to view their messages, not even by hacking into Tracy Island. Which must mean there was something going on in Thunderbird 5? Either way, Tin-Tin and Scott were still safer up there than down in the hanger.

Jumping down, water splashed around his ankles and he grimaced as the cold hit him. "Hey Brains!" He called out. "Have you got the communications back up?"

"Uh, n-no, n-not yet. It seems to b-be T-Thunderbird 5 that i-is the problem."

"So there's nothing I could do right now...nothing that could help at all?" Alan asked, allowing a hopeful note to creep into his voice. Brains smiled sympathetically.

"S-sorry Alan. There r-really is n-nothing." The scientist glanced at him, a worried frown drifting across his face for a second. Looking at the photograph, Alan knew that they were both wondering if everything was going to be okay or not. He had a distant, faded memory of just after Lucille had died in the avalanche, when Jeff had buried himself in his work and shut them all out of his life. At least this time John and Virgil were coming back. He hoped.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" Alan whispered staring at his watch in a silent wish.

Brains made a helpless gesture. "I d-don't know."

Alan knelt down in the water that was lapping around his knees as he was crouching, and inspected the large cracks in the floor. "Why does everything be fine one second, we're all happy, and then the next everything goes to hell, and as usual I'm left behind? I just want everything to be okay again. Like it was before. But Gordon's gone and John and Virgil are missing and nothing's okay. Scott's not in contact either."

"It'll all w-work out," Brains promised him.

He flicked a stone across the water. "I hope so."

* * *

The sound of a towel hitting the floor made Virgil glance up, distracted once more from his drawing. John was still trying to resurrect his hair, and was failing miserably, and Virgil was trying to control his laughter. The sight of a muddy towel dumped disrespectfully on the floor of his Thunderbird wasn't to be tolerated though, and he grabbed the item, and swung it round, hitting his brother with it before innocently sitting drawing again in the pale light.

"Oh come on! I'd just dried off!" John shot him a glare as he drew a hand across his face, wiping away muddy water which he had been splattered with by the towel. Virgil shrugged.

"Serves you right for tossing it on the floor."

John gave an exasperated sigh, all but jumping into the chair beside Virgil and putting his feet up.

"Stop that," Virgil announced without looking up from his drawing, the pencil moving across the paper with quick strokes.

"How did you even know what I was doing?" John removed his feet from the control panel, trying to sneak a glance at the drawing, which Virgil moved his hand to cover instantly. "So?"

"So what?" Virgil was drawing again.

John made to grab the pencil and overbalanced, having only been half sitting on the chair. Virgil, who'd been just sitting minding his own business, leapt up, suddenly finding his brother crashing into him.

"Wow. That was stylish." He muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms and staring at his sibling pointedly.

John grinned at him. "I know right? I am amazing. And I was going to ask how you knew what I was doing? Seriously, it's like you have some kind of freaky physic powers or something."

"Maybe I have...nah, I just know it's the sort of thing you'd do."

"No chance of you having any food?" John looked at the lockers hopefully, leaning against the co-pilot seat, listening to the scratching of his brother's pencil against the paper.

"None that's edible unless you want food poisoning."

"That bad?" John laughed as Virgil nodded.

"By all means try some, but don't blame if you feel sick afterwards."

"I'm so hungry that I'd probably eat Gordon's fish right now." They exchanged glances for a moment. "That came out wrong."

Virgil left the sketch pad on the chair, heading for the back of the Thunderbird.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere." He shot back, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice. Because dammit, it wasn't Johnny's fault and yet that kind of comment would have been fine to say just a week ago and hearing now just reminded him of how everything was so messed up.

* * *

"Damn whoever invented faulty light bulbs," Gordon gave the flickering light above him a glare so fierce that it was a wonder it didn't shatter. He was lying on the floor of the Main Control Room with his 'Survival Pack' out in front of him. It seemed as though the corridor where he'd entered from Thunderbird 4 had disappeared, as he couldn't find the passageway anywhere.

Somewhere, in the shadowy depths of the backpack, he knew there was a small orange object. Once he found it, he was going to activate it and then whoever was on Thunderbird 5 (he couldn't see Scott allowing himself to trapped on the satellite still) would see that his tracker was flashing.

And then they could find him. But first he had to... "Why can't I find the stupid thing?"

Flopping onto his back, he inspected the pale ceiling, with all the flickering lights and the secrets of what had happened on the sub. He slipped his hand into the backpack once more, feeling around for the familiar object. Suddenly he felt the cool metal against his fingertips and he closed his fist around it, pulling it out into the light before realising something.

It was the wrong tracker. It wasn't yellow and orange, meaning it wasn't his. Instead, it was a red and white colour.

"Thank you so much Alan," Gordon announced sarcastically to no one in particular. Oh well, he'd just scare everyone at home that Alan was in trouble, and then they'd find him and figure out that it was Gordon sending the signal.

Hopefully. There was only way to find out though. He flicked the tiny switch at the side so that the light blinked at him and the tracker vibrated.

"Now hurry up and find me guys or else I'll prank you every day for the next hundred years, and if I somehow can't then I'll send someone to do it for me."

He didn't dwell on the reasons he wouldn't be able to do that himself.

* * *

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Tin-Tin's voice sounded faint as it echoed up to Scott. He stood up, ducking as he remembered the ceiling dipped just behind him. Probably Tin-Tin was right, and he should stop trying to get the crazy idea he had in mind to work. But then again, he was Tracy, and in typical Tracy style, he wasn't going to admit he was wrong.

"Do you have John's permission to alter Thunderbird 5?" She thought aloud, leaning against the wall holding the torch up so that it illuminated the passageway through the wiring and ceiling panels.

"Um..." Oh...yeah. That was the other problem. Of course he hadn't told John that he was changing a few things around so that Thunderbird 5 would pick up several things a whole lot faster in one area, namely the area Thunderbird 4 had gone missing in. But there was one small problem. Well, he said small, it was more like the size of Thunderbird 2.

In picking up things faster in one area, the Thunderbird wasn't going to be able to pick up anything in another.

"Well we'll just have to hope that we don't get any rescue calls in those areas," he whispered, glaring at the metal around him as his voice was echoed around.

"What?" Tin-Tin yelled up. "Are you done yet?"

Good question Tin-Tin. He inspected his work, wiping dust off his hands onto his uniform. Replacing the panel, he climbed back down to join Tin-Tin who glanced up and down him and promptly announced that he needed a shower.

"Don't I get any food first?" He whined and she laughed. At least he'd managed to take her mind off the fates of those down on Tracy Island. Tin-Tin guessed what he was thinking and her expression darkened.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" She whispered, sweeping her long dark hair out of her face. It was times like this that reminded Scott that Tin-Tin and Alan were still so young considering the danger they were put in.

"I don't know," he admitted. "We'll just have to hope."

"I've done enough hoping to supply the entire country of Australia with electricity for five thousand years." She replied, glancing out the windows at Earth with a frown.

"I know. I've been doing exactly the same." And hoping, and wishing, and wanting so badly for everyone to come back home. And wanting to just stick everyone in here so they'll be safe, and then going out in Thunderbird 1 and searching for Gordon.

"What's that noise?" Tin-Tin frowned, listening carefully. Everything seemed silent, and still.

"I can't hear anything," Scott commented, crossing over to the windows as well, pressing his palms against the glass.

"I must have imagined it," Tin-Tin decided.

"Maybe..." He stared out at the swirling white mass of clouds that made up the hurricane that covered Tracy Island, battering everything and everyone in its path. Merciless, like the miles of ocean below him.

_Stay safe guys._

* * *

Gordon had taken to wandering the submarine in bare feet as his trainers had become uncomfortable as they were soaking wet and weren't drying off. He'd left them on top of one of the heaters in the personal rooms. He was trying to forget about whatever was on board with him as that had been freaking him out slightly. He'd even started wondering if the rescue itself had been a fake, but then again, he'd seen the wreckage of the vessel for himself.

Whistling to try and break the oppressing silence, he headed for a metal ladder that led down into a dark space below which he had seen the day before. He'd have entered it then but he'd remembered about the tracker and had headed back to the Control Room to get that work in as that had seemed much more important, especially as he knew it would take at least a day for his signal to reach Thunderbird 5. He wondered how everyone was faring on Tracy Island. The hurricane would have them in its full force by now. He hoped they were all okay.

He skidded to halt just before he went plummeting down the hole in front of him. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't realised that he'd reached the hatchway down to the lower levels. It sounded as though something was dripping, like an icicle melting and dripping onto rocks below. So it was wet. He may as well wear his trainers again, he thought grimly, stopping the whistling. It was ridiculous - why was everything always wet? Honestly!

Grabbing one rung of the ladder, he swung himself over the edge, glancing down over his shoulders to the bleak cavernous space below. It was like volunteering to walk into the oblivion, and he knew he was being crazy to even think about doing it. But he was bored, and he was sure as hell going to find out what was following him. It was quite funny in a way - he had some random darkness person stalking him.

"Okay, so far, I have lost my Thunderbird, found a random dead guy, acquired a stalker and started using a tracker only to discover it's my younger brother's." He sniggered, shaking his head. "Wow, that's quite an impressive list."

The rungs of the ladder were slimy with where they'd rusted with the water dripping on them the whole time. It was pitch black, leading Gordon to believe that the liquid had got into the wiring. Using his torch to see, he shine the bright light out over the floor. There was a thin layer of the strange liquid covering the floor, but everything else seemed alright, just rusted. There was a large doorway leading off into another set of stairs leading down into where he presumed they would have kept whatever the sub was carrying.

Stepping down into the liquid, he could have sworn he felt eyes on him. Turning, he couldn't seem to see anything or anyone.

"Creepy..." He muttered, heading towards the door. There was a sound of splashing behind him, like something was also walking towards the door through the liquid. Instantly he covered the torchlight with his hand, turning it off so that he couldn't be seen. A dim glow appeared to come from the ladder from the corridors above.

A quiet whisper seemed to come from the opposite of the room, but it was too soft to be made out and Gordon considered heading towards it. Yes, it would be foolhardy but he wasn't going to flee from whatever it was.

The room was large and because there was nothing to absorb the sound, everything seemed much louder than it really was. Gordon took a step forwards and the sound echoed. Something moved and blocked out the light from the corridors where the ladder was, resulting in the room being in complete darkness.

The sound of something moving closer made him instinctively back away. Trying to remember in the darkness where the large door he'd been heading towards was, he fumbled with the button on the torch and it slipped, crashing into the water with a loud sound.

"Oh shit." He turned round to find himself face to face with _it._

* * *

**_I think I've recovered now... *jacket falls off back of chair* *jumps and yelps* I said I thought I'd recovered, alright? Damn stupid brothers and dares to play horror computer games. He knows I have a fear of dark buildings with psychopaths in them. So what does he do?_**

**_"Kat, I dare you to play Outlast at 11 at night in a dark room by yourself."_**

**_I do not like my brother right now, needless to say._**

**_Review?_**

**_Kat x_**


	8. Chapter 8

_**More Natasha scenes in this. I enjoy writing her character. **_

_**Any recommendations on what to watch on Netflix by the way? I have two weeks with nothing to do apart from looking after the neighbours' dog for the day and they said just to let it lie around on the ground all day as it chases cars so I can't take it for a walk. So I'm going to watch something on Netflix that day. Suggestions?**_

* * *

"Mr Tracy?" It was only when a hand waved in front of his face that Jeff realised that someone was talking to him. Or rather talking _at_ him as it appeared, seeing as he hadn't been paying attention for the last half hour. He hadn't even been aware of the large A380 that had cruised out of a hanger and onto Runway 4C, but now he was out of his seeming daze, he noticed there was a large number of people gathering around the check-in desks once more. Drawing a hand up to his face, he blinked and then glanced around to figure out who'd chosen to bring him back to reality.

The young man looked nervous as he stood holding out a boarding pass. Jeff frowned at him. He had a private plane, he had no need for a boarding pass.

"You will be needing that. Now if you would like to come air-side please. Come with me." He leant in closer to Jeff's ear as they walked past the crowds.

"What's going on?"

"I'm Nick, a friend of Natasha's and you would know me as Agent 19. No one is allowed to leave the airport still, but we're going to sneak you out. Follow me and pretend to board the BA flight to New York."

Jeff looked at the A380 in suspicion. "Then what?"

"Then I'll meet you at that gate, and we'll go down onto the tarmac behind the crew when they double check the aircraft's fit for flight. There'll be a baggage handler waiting with one of the trucks. Go with him and he'll take you to Hanger Five where we'll have Tracy One transferred to. Good luck."

Nick disappeared, exiting the terminal through a door to a crew room. Jeff watched him go before looking down at the pass in his hand. Natasha seemingly had contacts everywhere and he did remember Scott recruiting some guy he'd been in the Air Force with to be 'Agent 19'. Nick seemed to fit the bill alright.

It seemed to Jeff that he didn't really have a choice. There was nowhere else he could go and the current plan was his only hope of getting back to help with the search for Gordon and to check the rest of his family were okay.

He headed down towards the gate, showing the pass once he'd passed the security checks and met the green-gaze of a young woman. She smiled at him.

"Mr Tracy, you've been upgraded. Follow me."

He jolted backwards, double-taking as he stared at her.

"Follow me."

He noted the way the black hair didn't shine in the light. Clearly a wig. The woman slid her hand into his and led him past the rest of the crew and into a small staircase. It was lit by a single spotlight.

Jeff nodded to her. "Natasha."

"Jeff. I'm coming with you."

"Certainly." He agreed. Nick appeared at the bottom of the staircase.

"Hurry up. Oh, hello Tasha."

"Nick. Nice to see you again. How's Michelle and the kids?"

"They're fine. I'm taking her on holiday later this year as the kids are off to camp."

"Nice."

He nodded. "I know." They followed him down the stairs to a small door which opened to reveal the tarmac underneath the A380. Across from them, besides a large portable staircase used for smaller aircraft such as propeller powered flights, was an average luggage transporting truck.

Jeff followed Natasha round the outskirts of the tarmac, keeping in the shadows of the building. A dark haired man with a moustache greeted them.

"I'm Louis. Hold on tight."

Jeff gripped the metal railing on the side of the truck as they sped towards a hanger, where the entrance was partly open, revealing a gleaming white aircraft with black lettering of Tracy One on the tail in spidery typing. Natasha kissed Louis on the cheek.

_"Merci mon ami. Vous avez bien fait."_ She told him softly before turning and following Jeff up the stairs to the aircraft.

"You can fly this thing?"

"It's my plane. And I'll be damned if they're going to stop me now." He pushed forwards on the control column, and the aircraft rolled out of the hanger, crossing onto the runway.

* * *

John lay back in the chair, still undecided about whether to go after Virgil or not. He wanted to give his brother space - he knew himself how annoying it was to be smothered by an older brother. The rain was relentless outside, still hammering down on the Thunderbird in its rhythmic pattern. He glanced across to where the worn sketchpad lay on the empty pilot seat, the pages well thumbed. He had to admit - he was tempted to look in it, but he wouldn't without Virgil's permission. God only knew where he'd gone. He'd disappeared twenty minutes ago now. John double checked his watch, and discovered it was nearing half an hour.

Oh great. He'd sat staring out at the rain for half an hour. Well that was just plain sad. The box of food lay innocently on the floor where he'd left it earlier, but he refused to touch any of it - he had no wish to get food poisoning, especially when he wasn't at home. He stared out at the rain again - it seemed it was getting even darker outside, as if that was even possible.

His gaze flickered back to the food again. Dammit - he was so hungry as well. It made the food on '5 seem like a five star restaurant. No - he refused to eat any of it. Oh surely one chocolate bar couldn't hurt? Just until he could have some proper food...

Chocolate bar in hand, he wandered towards the back of Thunderbird 2, where he was sure Virgil had been heading only to discover there was no one there. Well that was strange. Where had his younger brother got to then?

He jumped back into the seat, taking another bite of the chocolate bar, and glanced at the sketchpad. Lifting it up, he still felt guilty, like he was invading Virgil's personal space. He looked down at the sketch of Thunderbird 4, and suddenly knew exactly where to look...

* * *

"Scott?" Tin-Tin sat back in the chair she was curled up in, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. keeping a watchful eye on the scanners of the Thunderbird, whilst also wishing she could contact Tracy Island. That was clearly not an option, although she could dream, surely? She leaned forwards, resting her elbows on the ledge by the window, staring out at the beautiful planet they were orbiting, and hoped desperately that everyone she knew and loved were okay, or at least not in any immediate danger. The swirling mass of clouds was slowly moving away from the area of Tracy Island and a small smile drifted across her features as she imagined the work that would already be proceeding to get the communications back up, ready to alert Thunderbird 5 to any injuries, or any news at all. All things considered, the island had been coping remarkably well, although as it had to stand up to the force of the Thunderbirds taking off, it would have been a bit worrying if it hadn't.

"Yes?" Scott re-appeared at her side and grinned as he recognised that the hurricane was moving away from its position above the island where it had been battering their family. "I guess we'll be hearing some news soon then," he commented and Tin-Tin frowned.

"Yes. I just feel like something's wrong..." She sighed, pressing her hand against the 'window'. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just being over dramatic."

Scott frowned. "I don't think you are." He caught himself beginning to edge back to the main control panel. "I'm getting paranoid about that radio now."

Tin-Tin laughed, smiling at him as she rested her chin in her hands watching the blue haze over the planet beneath them. "Same."

"At least you've managed to spend more than five minutes before darting back over there..." A small flashing light caught his attention and after a couple of moments of staring at it, Scott realised what exactly the Thunderbird was telling him.

"Is that...?" Tin-Tin began, and trailed off as she noticed the colour of the light. It was certainly a tracker, but the wrong one, and the person whom it belonged to was meant to be reasonably safe, in Thunderbird 3's hanger, away from the waves that threatened to engulf the island.

"What the hell?" That fact clearly had presented itself to Scott as well, as he took in the white light, clearly having hoped it would have been orange and yellow, offering a clue to Gordon's whereabouts. Reaching for the radio again, he double checked the weather conditions. "There's nothing with Thunderbird 5, it has to be Tracy Island," he muttered, attempting to contact his family. "Now what's Alan gone and done?"

Tin-Tin shivered, trying to think of anything but what her boyfriend could have done. Alan tended to act and think later, which had resulting in him landing himself in trouble more than once in the past, although to give credit where it was due, he did tend to think about things when he was out on a rescue, much like the way his immediate older brother snapped out of prankster mode into serious mode when there were lives on the line. "Maybe he set it off as a way to let us know that they're unable to reach the radio, but are..." The unspoken words _still_ _alive_ hung in the air and they both knew what she'd been going to say.

"Maybe." Scott acknowledged her, still giving the radio a frustrated glare, only refraining from punching it because it was John's 'bird and not his, although he wouldn't have damaged Thunderbird 1. "Great. Just great. We have to lounge around here and wait for them to give us news and all the time we can worry sick because my youngest brother's managed to get himself into yet _another_ mess...except this time I can't help him because I'm stuck up on this stupid, _stupid_ tin-can that doesn't even go anywhere!"

Tin-Tin watched him in amusement. "Finished?" She asked him, trying to stop the grin that threatened to emerge.

Scott shot her an apologetic glance. "Yeah. Sorry..." Deciding that glaring at the radio with anger that threatened to make the equipment burst into flames wasn't helping the situation; he leant back in the chair. "I was just expecting that tracker to be a different colour."

"Orange and yellow?" Tin-Tin's whispered question came out quieter than she'd been expecting and when the eldest Tracy brother didn't respond, she found herself wondering if he'd even heard her when he started pacing again. Enough said, she thought to herself. Yes, he had been hoping it was orange and yellow.

Which left the question remaining - where was Thunderbird 4 and her pilot?

* * *

sense of fear that automatically took over caused him to start running in an unknown direction was the one instinct that Gordon wished he didn't have. The loud pounding sound in his ears he recognised as his own heart-beat as he broke into a sprint, water splashing up around him - the sound echoing in an unfortunate way. Gordon had not really given himself a chance to take in who had been standing over him, leering at him in a way that sent shivers up his spine.

There was the noise of loud footsteps and a grating sound like metal being dragged harshly against another object and then a laugh, harsh and cold of any emotion, echoed through the submarine and Gordon skidded into something and found himself tumbling backwards.

International Rescue training kicking into action, he slid onto his front so that he wasn't as vulnerable. He had now clearly determined that he had not been imagining all the strange happenings he'd been caught up in ever since he'd first thought he was under observation in Thunderbird 4. What he didn't understand was how the person had even got onto his sub in the first place, or why? The most important thing he wanted to find out was whether the being wanted to harm him, or maybe even wanted his help...

**_My_**_ help? I need **its** help! _He took a deep breath without letting on his position, currently crouched loosing the feeling in his fingertips and toes due to the coldness of the water that was seeping through his soaking uniform. _Okay Gordon...keep calm. You've been on Security courses where they've told you about obstacles like this... You've had the training for this sort of situation. You know the theory...yes, exactly! The theory, but have you ever even been in a training exercise or a situation like this before? No...But I'm a Tracy...remember your motto...you don't give up...now think. What your main priority right now?_

He refrained from shivering, knowing that the slightest movement would send ripples spreading out across the surface of the liquid towards his follower who would instantly be able to ignore out where Gordon was. He needed to get to the ladder so he could get to the Control Room where his watch (which was broken) and pack were. Plus, he might be able to lock his stalker out. Hopefully...

"You! Step out now!" The harsh voice came out like a growl and Gordon took a moment to consider his options. A gunshot rang out, and even in the dark, the guy had a good aim as the bullet whizzed past Gordon's ear. Okay, so this guy seriously did not want his help...

"Out now!" Obeying the command, Gordon tried to see his captor, widening his eyes as he took in the figure before him...A cruel laugh rang out.

"W-Who are you?" Damn! He hadn't meant to stammer! _I'm turning into Brains..._

"Don't you know me?"

"Enlighten me!" Gordon snapped, gripping the sleeve of his uniform in a desperate attempt to remind himself of the fact he was alive and that his brothers would never give up on him. That didn't stop the shivering though...

"I'm your worst nightmare..."

"Wow. Just wow. That line is so over used...please excuse my sarcasm, but having a gun pointed at you does tend to have that effect." Gordon blundered, buying himself more time. Every second counts, he reminded himself, feeling his heart-beat quicken as the figure stepped closer.

"How do you even know I'm real? I might even just be your imagination."

"No." Gordon closed his eyes, hoping that he was imagining it. All of it...that he was at Tracy Island...hell, he'd even go on 'bird cleaning duty if he could only go home.

"But you're not certain, are you? Scared, are you?"

"No!" Gordon snapped, trying to calm himself. Think about Thunderbird 4... Think about the pranks you and Alan have pulled...think about all the successful missions that you and Virgil celebrated coming home in Thunderbird 2...

"Yes you are. I've known that fear and the desperation to see my family again...what is it you always tell each other? 'We can't save everyone...' Like my family...and now you will know that as well."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the one who doubts yourself the most..."

He jolted backwards, stumbling and hitting the wall, backing away. "No!"

"Yes..." The sound filled the airwaves like the hissing of a snake. "And imagine how disappointed your family would be..."

"Guess I'd better find out that for myself then!" Gordon made a dive for the ladder. _He was right, we do say that we can't save everyone, but there's also our motto...Never give up! And I'm not going to for a very long time yet..._

* * *

"Sam! Get these tested for me," Thomas lifted the plastic bag up in the bright unnatural light emitted by the cold white spotlights above him. The tiny strips of metal washed up on the beach the day after the International Rescue craft had disappeared, seemingly off the face of the earth, seemed to have a thin layer of a strange substance that was like water at first, but started to burn after about an hour.

At first Thomas had mistaken it for ice, and had spent half an hour wondering how the hell ice would have turned up on random strips of metal on a beach in Bermuda, but when it had started to burn (and he'd hurriedly washed it off his fingertips under Sam's instructions - since when had he started taking orders from a newbie?) he'd realised that his assumptions were wrong.

Whatever the chemical was though, it shouldn't be there and if it was being washed up from the sea, then perhaps it had damaged the Thunderbird vessel in some way, which would explain how it had stopped communicating and disappeared completely, stopping transmitting its position. That would give the impression that it hadn't been taken over, and that it was just without power and waiting for rescue.

The difficulty Thomas knew he still had was trying to figure out where to look. The currents of the ocean around the island were strong and the submarine could have been carried off anywhere, especially if the engines weren't working to get it moving in the direction it wanted to go.

"Yes Tom." Sam was much more relaxed, having figured out that his boss was actually a friendly and kind-hearted person underneath the exterior. What had also helped him form this impression was a long talk with Oscar about how to act around the senior man; Sam didn't particularly want to find himself without a job and so asking for ways to please his boss was definitely on his priority list. Sam stood by the desk, frowning at the maps. "Tom..."

"Yes?"

"Can you send the weather reports from the day of the rescue to my tablet? I think I have a rough idea of where the Thunderbird went missing and the weather reports of the wind direction would help me from an idea of where the currents would have taken the sub."

"You're good," Thomas grinned, his fingers tapping the table as he waited for the information to load. Sam shuffled his feet self consciously - it was well known that Tom didn't give praise easily and to earn it without actually trying was a worth-while result. The wavering internet connection appeared to consider continuing trying to send the information across and then gave up, leaving Tom clenching his fists in frustration. "Dammit!" He cursed, before shifting his chair across. "Use my computer. I need to head down to the museum."

"Museum?" Sam echoed, raising an eyebrow. Tom grinned and tapped his nose secretively.

"They'll have records of all the sightings of this supposed 'ghost sub'."

"You don't believe the tales then?" Sam inquired, settling in the leather chair, taking care not to kick the desk by accident.

Tom contemplated the question for a moment before answering him honestly. "I think there's something in it. The only question is - who would want to harm others by having their own submarine and abducting people? What reason would they have?"

"You're going to suggest I've been reading too many crime fiction novels but..."

"To be perfectly frank, I don't really mind. I'm open to all suggestions at the moment - apart from ideas that this Thunderbird's been taken by extraterrestrial beings. Go ahead." Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"It sounds like...like someone attempting to get revenge."

Tom gave a small smile. "Normally I'd laugh, and say your head was still buried in those crime fiction books of yours, you're right there, but then again, there is nothing normal about this entire situation, so I'm tempted to believe you." Tom admitted. After a moment he frowned. "Actually...that would all add up. But there's one main factor missing..."

"Yes?"

"Who?"

"You've lost me," Sam told him, looking up from the holographic maps and Tom leaned forwards, grinning.

"I think you've hit the nail on the head. But the factor still missing is who would want or need revenge, and who that person is?"

"Or being!" Sam teased, smirking as Tom let out an exasperated sigh.

"What _am_ I going to do with you Sam, ay?" He leant forwards on the desk, his smile almost splitting his face in half as his younger companion chuckled. "Let me tell you one more time - there is a logical reason for this mystery!"

He turned, grabbing his mobile and slipping into his shirt pocket as he opened the door, allowing the warm moist air from outside to drift in. "At least I hope there is..."

* * *

Alan was perched on a metal beam that stretched across the ceiling, his legs swinging back and forth. In a different situation he probably wouldn't have risked it without a jetpack nearby as he was so high up, but worry had made him more reckless than usual.

"Alan? Are y-you o-okay?" Brains called up to him, the radio clutched in one hand as he frowned at youngest Tracy's position on the beam.

"Yes!" Alan yelled back, noting the radio and leaping to his feet, running across the beam, and then swinging himself down using a rope and a grapple pack, landing lightly on the floor, sending ripples out across the thin layer of water.

Brains frowned. "O-okay. The radio is err, w-working. I am a-attempting to reach Thunderbird 5."

"They're not picking up?" Alan grabbed the radio. "Listen here Scooter! Answer me, or else I will consider crashing '1...you can't actually stop me, cos you're up there, and I'm here. And...Yeah...um...just answer for crying out loud!"

"Alan?" His eldest brother sounded startled. "What was that about '1? Are you okay? What's going on?"

Alan gave his friend a triumphant smile. "Bingo."

* * *

Footsteps echoed throughout the empty pod, alerting him to the fact there was someone else arriving. _John_, he thought silently. No doubt his brother had sneaked through his sketchpad. Normally he would be annoyed, but ever since that fateful rescue, he'd just felt numb...shocked. Everything didn't really seem to make any sense. They'd all been working on auto-pilot, not sure what to believe.

"Hey."

Virgil didn't look up. "Do you know that was the most pathetic greeting ever used...by you at least..." His voice was quiet, conscious of the echo-ey space around him. John slid to the ground beside him, leaning back against the pod wall, taking care not to knock any equipment. Power 4 seemed empty and lifeless now that the yellow submarine that usually inhabited her was missing.

"Oh." John lowered his voice to a whisper. "Sorry."

"What for?"

John remained silent, instead choosing to fiddle with a loose thread of his uniform. He cast a worried look at his younger brother. "Sorry..." He repeated.

"Why? It's not your fault. We never used to have any problems about making comments like that..."

"Are you okay?" John leant forwards, draping an arm round Virgil's shoulders.

"No. It's just sinking in that he might not be coming home." Virgil stood up and John watched him as he started packing up and down the entire length of the pod, humming _Yellow Submarine _softly.

"He will." John closed his eyes, hoping that was the truth. He still had no idea why Thunderbird 5's sensors had failed to keep tracking the smallest Thunderbird and it was still worrying him. He was refusing to accept that his younger brother wasn't coming back because god dammit; he wasn't allowed to _not_ come back!

"Do you truly believe that? Do you? Everyone's accepting that he probably won't - everyone apart from me! I need proof, and I know that I'm never going to get it! What did we ever do? All we've done is help people, and yet we're the ones being punished! Why..." Virgil trailed off, contemplating kicking something before deciding that he would just end up with an injured foot.

"I don't know." John admitted, watching him concern. He leant forwards, resting his head in hands. "But can you seriously imagine Gordon giving up?"

"No...But-"

"Virg, seriously? And how could you even _think_ that I would give up on Gords?" John looked up cautiously to see that Virgil had stopped his pacing and was just standing where '4 should be. "I would never give up on any of us." John told him, half aware of a buzzing sound coming from somewhere. "What is that sound?"

Virgil sat back down next to him. "No clue," he replied tiredly.

"Better?" John asked him, draping his arm around his brother's shoulders again.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

John gave him a secretive grin, tapping his foot again. "Secrets...secrets."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "You are seriously creepy, you know that?"

John laughed. _Crisis averted. Good job I was here to calm him down, although at least it wasn't Alan who I was dealing with! Now he is hard to pacify..._ "Virg."

"What?" It amazed John that his younger brother hadn't recognised the sound, or felt that vibrating watch that was on his wrist. John had no idea where his own watch was, but he was just hoping it hadn't been swept away.

"Your watch. Incoming call." He told Virgil who jumped, realising what John meant. Swiping his finger across the surface, he accepted the call and John glanced across, curious who it was from.

"Hey Scooter," Virgil called into the watch, the metal glimmering in the dim light of the pod. John waved, frowning when his older brother didn't return the greeting, instead looking confused.

"I'm picking up on Alan's emergency transmitter..." Scott began to explain.

"Alan? Is he okay?" John broke in, earning himself an annoyed glare from both his siblings.

"That's just the thing. Alan's fine and he doesn't have his transmitter on him. I'm running a trace, but I might need someone to fly out to where the transmitter says he is."

"But...if Alan didn't set it off, then who did?" Virgil asked him. Scott shrugged, but they all knew that there was one obvious person.

"Tin-Tin's double checking where Alan's actual transmitter is... We'll know for sure in a minute or two."

"We'll wait for your call then." John sighed, leaning back against the pod wall again, almost dislodging something and moving to the side hurriedly, much to Virgil's amusement.

He couldn't help but smile then.

* * *

**_So, yeah. Reviews?_**

**_Kat x_**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Great news - I went to London on Saturday and finally got a new laptop. I'm considering it an investment. Which means you guys will finally be getting regular updates - hooray! **_

_**Anyway, I'll let you read on :)**_

* * *

Tin-Tin let the airlock slide open with hiss, allowing her into the Thunderbird in front of her. Thunderbird 3 was in darkness and after a couple of moments of fumbling around, she managed to illuminate the rocket and think about the instructions her boyfriend had given her.

_'Find my uniform,'_ Alan had said urgently. '_And check the place where my transmitter is usually kept. Check what colour it is...I may have accidentally swapped transmitter with...well...yeah.'_

Tin-Tin cast her gaze across the floor to where she knew the uniform should be. Kneading down, she slid her hand into the pocket, retrieving the familiar form of the transmitter. Holding it up in the bright lights, she narrowed her eyes, determining the colour.

"Oh," she gasped and then stumbled backwards, away from the uniform. Unlike his brothers, Alan probably wouldn't care if it was crumpled or not.

"Scott!" She yelled, breaking into a run, skidding to a halt in front of the airlock and with trembling fingers, she pressed the code in on the slivery buttons of the keypad. A green light flashed and then the airlock slid open and she dashed inside. "Scott!"

"What?" He looked up hopefully to where she clutched the transmitter in a fierce grip as though it was about to be taken away from them. In reply she opened her hand, revealing the transmitter. A very orange transmitter.

"It's Gordon's..." She whispered.

"This means that Gordon has Alan's...yes!" Scott leapt to his feet grinning and hugging her before stepping backwards. "Sorry."

She laughed. "Let's trace the signal!"

"And get out there to rescue him!" For the first time in several days, they both worked side by side, the window forgotten. The swirling storm mass of the hurricane moved away and Tracy Island was released from its harsh grip.

* * *

Tom slammed his hand down on the wooden table as he noticed the flashing light on the main mobile that they were using as a contact number for International Rescue to reach them by. The white light blinked innocently at him as he fixed the young woman in front of him with a stern gaze.

"How long has that been like that?" He demanded. Laura shrugged, and met his gaze squarely, placing a brown paper package on the desk. Tossed up with white string, it took Tom a moment to untangle it. A pocket-knife found itself onto the table by his hand, ready for him to use. Flashing Sam a grateful smile, he tore the package open and several photographs fell out onto the desk. Sliding one over to Laura and passing one to Sam, leaving five left on the table still, he selected one for himself, inspecting the grainy image.

"Tom...this is of a rescue." Sam began quietly, staring down at his picture. "There was one person who was apparently missing. There were three others left, and they were already...well..."

"Dead?" Laura suggested, raising her eyebrows as everyone looked at her. Sam sighed.

"Yes. Their radio malfunctioned and their call for help got eventually sent out too late. There was evidence that one other person had survived, but with a head injury. As you may have guessed, International Rescue got there too late."

"So that guy who went missing, the one with the head injury, he would have a reason for revenge against International Rescue?" Tom realised aloud.

"And if he had a head injury than he may not remember everything or be aware of his actions or even who he was?" Laura put in, shrugging her jumper off her shoulders.

"Yes," Sam told them. "And the reports say that the submarine coming back from testing a new substance at the Arctic arrived back and went missing at the same time. They could have picked this guy up, but he could have taken control himself."

"That's a bit of a tall tale, with a lot of assumptions," Tom began and Sam visibly sunk, believing that his theory was already ruled out. He was wrong. "But it could quite probably be true. If this guy has control of a sub, then he could abduct anyone, mistaking them for International Rescue because of the head injury."

"Exactly!" Sam leapt to his feet. "And that chemical we sent out to the lab! That chemical could be linked to this new chemical that was being brought back by the research sub from the Arctic."

Tom reached across to the phone and placed it across his ear as he listened to the message, his expression turning grave as he stood up. "Sam, come with me. International Rescue have found something; we have a lead."

Laura shot him a questioning look. "Laura, sorry, but I need you here. The rest of these idiots couldn't keep a flock of chickens in check, let alone this entire operation."

She laughed. "Sure thing Tom."

* * *

It was dusk when the little white aeroplane descended from the thick clouds. It was a relief to Jeff (and to Natasha) when the weather radar had alerted them to the fact that the winds had died down and then a few minutes later the radio and vid-link flickered into life.

"I must warn you that you are trespassing on private airspace now. Please state your name and business here. We have had serious weather conditions recently and there is nowhere to land so I must of course assume that your business here is none too good."

Jeff laughed, activating his end of the vid-link. "Honestly Scott. Stand down, it's me."

"Dad?" Scott stared at him for second before laughing, trying not to sound too hysterical. "Is that actually you?"

"Yes, are you alright?"

Scott paused for a moment or two, taking his time to think about the answer. "Just…thank God you're back."

"Update me."

"Tin-Tin's sending through all the recent information. There's been a storm surge and '2 and '1's hangers flooded. John and Virgil flew them to the nearest island, whatever's called."

"Caspianća. Right. That's alright then." He guided the plane down, skimming the runaway and pulling up. "Any way you can get this cleared within the next twenty minutes?"

"You got it Dad." Alan appeared on the vid-screen. "I'm going to use one of the remaining pod vehicles."

Jeff was aware of Natasha looking over his shoulder at the fuel gage. "Just hurry up, son."

* * *

"Are you aware of the seriousness of the situation I have to deal with now? I told you to kill him. What submarine was he in anyway?" The pale skinned woman, her dark eyes narrowed as she tapped long nails on the window sill, the scarlet nail polish perfect, swung round to face the darkness. He bowed his head.

"I am sorry sister. But all I know is that it was called a _'thunderbird'_." He replied, the red scar down his face clear in the spotlights. He was uncomfortable here, longing to return to the depths of the ocean, to hunt down the human and kill him like he should have done in the first place. Now, here he was, having to explain to the beautiful assassin in front of him why he had failed in protecting her most precious asset.

The Assassin spun around on the spot, her long jet black hair swinging around her face like a cloak as she stared at him. "Thunderbird? Are you sure Alęxi? Because if you are not, then the consequences for you will include the most unimaginable pain."

The darkness winced at the use of the unfamiliar name. He figured it was connected to his old life. He could not remember anything but the darkness though. He wanted no more confusing memories interrupting his work. The game must go on. A fair motto he believed.

"Yes. I am certain. It was yellow. And painted on it was the number four."

_"__эти американские ублюдки__.__"_ Her voice was full of spite and hatred and her dark eyes flashed with fury. "They have come back to haunt me once more. And now I will take my revenge. Kill their friend. Kill him painfully and then when they come looking they will find I have grown up. I shall murder them where they stand."

"Yes. Revenge."

She turned, as if just remembering he was still there and frowned at him. "You must go Alęxi. You must carry out the task I have given you." She leant forwards and pressed her lips to his cheek. "Do not fail me again dear brother."

* * *

It was cold in the hanger compared to the plane when Natasha followed Jeff into '3's silo. Brains was sitting fiddling with a computer, but he got up to greet her, polite like always. Alan waved but didn't stop talking to Tin-Tin over the audio link on his watch.

Jeff settled down on a chair and read through the information, before looking shocked at something and sat up, looking across at a certain blond haired Tracy.

"Are you alright?" Natasha asked Brains. Her old friend smiled.

"Yes. I m-must say, it is great t-to see you a-again Tasha." Natasha crossed one leg over the other as she sat down next to him to watch her boss grill his son for answers, not unlike a cat with a mouse or a dog with a bone. Merciless and successful.

"So you swapped trackers with Gordon?" Jeff, frowning, asked Alan, who was sitting with one of the emergency blankets wrapped round his shoulders, fiddling with the corner of it. He had tripped over, slipping in the water and had landed rather heavily on his ankle, so as well as having a throbbing sensation in his foot, he was also cold and shivering again.

Natasha had noted the concerned look in Jeff's eyes when he'd hugged his son and had noticed the shivering and feverish shine to his blue eyes.

"Well...yes," he admitted, without looking up. "We were trying to annoy each other."

"By swapping equipment? Do you have any idea of the seriousness of that! Imagine if you were out on rescue and it was you who was in trouble? We would be trying to reach Gordon when it was you who was in trouble!" Jeff yelled at him, inwardly feeling sorry for Alan. But his youngest son needed to know that messing around with items that could affect lives that were used in rescues was not to happen. It was just unfortunate that it had to happen right after Alan had injured himself, and was feeling so bad.

"Thunderbird 5 calling-" Scott's voice came filtering through the radio and Jeff turned and snatched the object up as if it was his only life source.

"Scott? What's wrong? Have you figured out if the tracker is Gordon's?" He demanded and the pilot drew back, shocked by the sudden line of questions.

"Um, hi?" Leaning closer, Scott lowered his voice. "What's wrong with the Sprout?"

"I may have been a bit harsh with him," Jeff sighed, looking guilty as he frowned over towards the teenager.

"Right. Well...Alan! You'll want to hear this too!" The youngest Tracy glanced up at hearing his name called and slowly got to his feet, limping slightly from where he'd fallen on his ankle. Reaching the radio, he leant on Jeff's shoulder slightly and the older man shot his son a concerned look.

"Are you sure your ankle's alright? I'm still going to have Brains take a look at when we get out of here." Jeff told him.

"Dad! It's fine!" Alan sighed. "Anyway, what's the news Scooter?"

Scott grinned, reaching for someone off the screen. A moment later Tin-Tin appeared, holding something orange in her fist. "Is that?" Jeff began, hope creeping into his voice without being invited.

"Yep, it's Gordon's. Which means that Alan's tracker is actually being used by Gords, I'm guessing? So I'm tracing the signal and hopefully I'll have narrowed down the search area considerably by the next hour." Scott told him.

"Awesome! Oh _yes_!" Alan leapt to his feet, grinning madly, regretting instantly as his injured ankle hit the ground harder than he'd have liked. Jeff sighed, grabbing Alan's shoulders firmly to keep him upright.

"Happy?" He asked Alan sarcastically, but the effect wasn't really working because of the wide smile across his features. Alan shrugged, almost dislodging Jeff's arm, catching sight of Tin-Tin.

"Hey Tin!" He yelled, his voice echoing around the hanger causing Brains to wince as the shout was magnified in his ears. Straightening up, the genius crossed the room to them.

"Have we heard s-something?" He inquired, nudging his blue rimmed glasses further up his nose.

Jeff nodded to him. "We think we've found Gordon."

Brains smiled. "That's w-wonderf-f, fantastic!"

"Now we just need to get Gords and then we'll all be together again!" Alan announced grandly before his smile dropped from his face as he remembered his other missing siblings. "Hey Scott, have you heard from Virgil or John?"

"Yes, through Virgil's watch. They seemed okay." Scott frowned. "John took my Thunderbird," he muttered furiously. "Without my permission. And he disobeyed my direct order."

"It was either that or she was going to get flooded," Alan told him, the grin back again. "So everyone's okay?"

"We don't know about Gordon for sure yet," Jeff reminded him gently and Alan sat back down heavily, the smile disappearing instantly. He tugged the blanket around his shoulders again and jumped as someone passed him a dry hoodie.

"You're cold," Natasha explained, holding the article of clothing out to him with a soft smile drifting across her features.

"I reckon Gordon is fine," Scott reassured Alan, exchanging glances with Jeff. One thing was for sure - none of them were ready to believe anything for sure until they had the aquanaut home again, safe and sound. And Gordon needed to be ready for a lot of smothering...

* * *

"This is Thunderbird 2. Thunderbirds 5 and 1, how do you read me?" Virgil spoke into the radio, glancing out at the rain. The winds weren't nearly as strong and according to the information Thunderbird 5 was giving Scott, the hurricane was moving on, and it was safe to fly. He still wasn't happy about his immediate younger brother flying Thunderbird 1 that much was obvious, something which made Virgil have to hold in a laugh.

"Strength Four, there's a touch of static still," John replied, glancing round at Thunderbird 1. Scott was not going to be impressed at the cleanup job of the silver aircraft - the mud appeared to have clung to everything.

"Strength Three," Scott admitted. "But it's getting clearer. It's just because of some...um...updates I installed on Thunderbird 5." He gave Virgil a nervous look as he prepared himself for the onslaught he was about to receive from John in Thunderbird 1.

Virgil sat back, ready to watch the show in amusement. Scott shot him a hurt look as there was a horrified gasp over the radio.

_Oh boy, am I going to enjoy this,_ Virgil thought to himself, smiling already.

"What updates?" John's voice was cold with anger. "I never gave you permission, and there were no updates to be installed. At least none that Brains had any hand anyway."

"Yes, well, you see...there...um...err..." Scott trailed off; beginning to look worried, giving Virgil a pleading look. Virgil shrugged, enjoying the entertainment as he tapped a holograph for the AI to take over automatic flight controls, and then crossed his arms as he waited for the furious shouting to begin. If things got too bad then he wouldn't hesitate to break it up but for the meantime he was very happy with watching, and being thankful his Thunderbird wasn't the basis for any revenge plots.

"What do you do?" John shouted over the radio, clearly furious. "Hey, I've got an idea, why don't I 'update' Thunderbird 1? I could chop off her wings and replace them with freaking feathers! Or maybe you would prefer propellers?"

Scott was looking horrified, and Virgil was sympathising with him. It wasn't often John got this angry, but when he did the person in the line of fire didn't stand a chance. "Honest Johnny, I..."

"Don't call me that!" John cut the connection, leaving Scott staring at the blank screen in a mute protest.

"Ouch," Virgil suggested and Scott raised an eyebrow at him.

"Just ouch? He practically killed me and you were just sitting there laughing for the entire time!"

"I didn't want my Thunderbird to be modified without my permission," Virgil told him sarcastically, instantly regretting it as his older brother looked hurt.

"He didn't even give me a chance to explain. He just gave death threats to '1," Scott protested, sighing.

"What did you do?" Virgil leaned forwards in his seat, interested to hear the answer to that one. Scott wasn't the engineering geek of the family by a long shot. He was a whiz at anything aeronautical but when it came to re-wiring or updating Thunderbird 5, he was the first along with Gordon to be hiding under the kitchen table or their Dad's desk.

"I transferred the energy being used on monitoring the opposite side of the world to where Gords went missing. That means that although nothing will be picked up there, we'll have a better chance of finding Gordon..." Scott ran a hand through his hair, fixing Virgil with a pleading look. "I thought John would understand that. It's not like it's a permanent thing."

"I'll talk to him," Virgil promised. "Anyway, are you going to send me the co-ordinates of this tracker or what?"

Scott still looked hurt. "Yeah."

_Maybe John went a little over the top...great, now I have yet another argument to clear up..._

* * *

**_Yep. So that happened. I don't even know where I get these ideas, I think my fingers just take over from my mind. It's terrifying. _**

**_Hey, lucky you, I'm updating tonight again. Um, is that lucky? I'm not sure..._**

**_Kat x_**

**_Leave a review?_**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Annnnd - I'm back! With another update. I'm back from where, you ask? London. For a girl who lives by the sea, it was...a lot busier than I'm used to. For any Londoners who may be reading though - I still think it's awesome.**_

_**(But Seattle and New York are better, and Sydney...just wow)**_

* * *

"Of all the stupid, foolish, crazy, idiotic things..." John muttered to himself as he increased the speed of Thunderbird 1, gaining altitude until he was above the clouds. The much missed sunlight filtered through into the cockpit, and he blinked as his eyesight adjusted.

A buzzing sound interrupted him and he glanced down at the controls to see that he had an incoming call on the vid-screen.

"Go away Scott," he told the radio, disconnecting the caller. A couple of moments passed before his older brother tried to contact him once again and John took a deep breath, clenching his fists. He could disconnect him yet again or he could accept the call and yell at his brother even more.

"Safer to disconnect it," He told himself aloud, his hand reaching automatically to disconnect Thunderbird 5 once again. He'd only regret yelling at Scott later on anyway, so it was better to be safe than sorry. About half a second past before the radio buzzed once more. "If that's Scott again," John began, not actually knowing what he would do, but when the time came, he had no doubts that it would be good.

A quick glance at the radio revealed that he wasn't his older brother calling, but Virgil. "This is Thunderbird 1, go ahead Thunderbird 2."

"This is Thunderbird 2. How are you reading me?"

"If there's strength four and a half, then I'm reading you as that. I take it you're not above the clouds yet?"

"Nope, but I will be in the next five minutes." Virgil confirmed, reaching to adjust something on his controls.

"That's probably why I'm not reading you on Strength Five. Anyway, if you've come to try and plead Scott's innocence then it's not going to work."

"Since when did you become such a mind reader?" Virgil joked, before turning serious as he looked at John. "In all seriousness though, why did you get so furious at Scott?"

John cast his eyes skyward, adjusting the speed of Thunderbird 1 slightly, smiling as Thunderbird 2 came onto the close proximity radar. "Think Virg. How would you feel if I went onto Thunderbird 2 and adjusted her so that she could only fly a metre above the ground or something like that?" He frowned, wondering why Scott had given up trying to contact him. If his older brother had sent Virgil to try and calm him down then he was going to discover that John wasn't that easily deterred.

"I'd be breathing fire," Virgil smiled, glancing at something off screen. "But I'd give you a chance to explain why you'd done it or even what you'd done."

John sighed, leaning back in his seat. Why did Virgil always have a way to make him feel guilty? Emotions had been running high anyway, and for Scott to suddenly announce that he'd messed John's 'bird, without John's permission...well that had just been the last straw. "Point taken," He admitted to Virgil who had a satisfied grin on his face. "I know you've been talking to him, so what has he done to my 'bird?"

Virgil widened his eyes in innocence. "Moi? Talking to arch enemy no. 1? Of course not!"

"Yeah, right." John shook his head, not believing his younger sibling for a second. If was obvious that he'd been talking with the 'arch enemy'.

"Okay, okay, you've got me. I have talked to him, yes, I admit that, but I'm not telling you what he's done."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I want you to talk to him." Virgil gave him a confident grin, before cutting the connection.

John glared at the radio for a moment, silently naming the Thunderbird 2 pilot all sorts of things Alan really shouldn't hear in his mind before mentally acknowledging that Virgil was right. With a groan, he reached out to the radio.

"Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5. Come in please."

"Reading you Strength Five Thunderbird 1."

"Hi..." John answered awkwardly. "Look, sorry about earlier."

"Nah, no problem. I would have liked a chance to explain though." Scott told him, casually swinging the chair round slightly as he monitored Thunderbird 2's progress. In the background, Tin-Tin was still talking to Alan, relieved to have comms back up and running.

"I know. This is why I'm giving you that chance now." John glanced at him questioningly as Scott considered that for a moment, appearing to actually wonder if he was going to say anything at all.

"Okay," Scott said finally. "Just don't go berserk at me, please?"

"You're pleading with me? Ooh, this is going to be tense."

"Shut up Johnny," he muttered, but a John caught sight of a ghost of a smile. "Look, when we had no idea where Gords was, I figured out that if he was sending a signal, from so far under the water, he wouldn't be able to reach us, right?"

"Right..." John was wondering where this was going, with a feeling of dread that he already knew. He updated '1's flight path quickly, to avoid a commercial plane on its way to Singapore before sitting back and surveying his older brother's expression. He could Scott even better than Virgil at times. Probably because they'd spent the best part of a week stuck in a cave last summer when the tunnel they'd been using to ferry survivors out of the debris had suddenly collapsed leaving them stranded with everyone still ill with the flu.

And right now, John figured his brother was worried, and was trying to get everything back to normal. Weren't they all? But why the hell was Scotty feeling guilty? If anything, surely he should be seriously irritated with them at the moment for point blank ignoring his orders and suggestion for the past twenty-four hours.

"So I adjusted the energy used to monitor the other side of the world to where he went missing, redirecting that energy so that it's used to also monitor the area where Gordon should be. That way, we should pick up on any signal coming from there, because the extra energy would make the sensors more sensitive."

"So Thunderbird 5 can't pick up on anything at all from the opposite side of the world to Bermuda?"

"No." Scott looked at him nervously. "John, I am sorry. But I wasn't going to let Gordon try to send us a signal, when I know there was no chance on us picking up on it. That's why I change it, so we would. And look what's happened. We have picked up on his tracker."

John let out the breath he hadn't realised he was even holding and caught sight of Thunderbird 2 approaching on the radar even closer. "Alright. I forgive you."

"Wow, that's a relief!" Scott joked, grinning at him. "Hey, why are you cutting your speed?"

"To thank Virg." Scott looked confused, but let John cut the connection, leaving him wondering if his younger brother was feeling okay. First forgiving him so quickly over Thunderbird 5 and then announcing he was thanking Virgil by cutting his speed?

"Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 1."

"This is Thunderbird 1, go ahead Thunderbird 2."

"Why are you cutting your speed? We're nowhere near Bermuda yet."

John gave him a smile. "Yeah, but I need to thank you. And zooming off ahead isn't exactly a polite way to do that."

"You are seriously weird," Virgil told him, smiling as he pushed back on the throttle, adjusting his altitude to fly side by side with Thunderbird 1. "Hi Johnny!" He waved out the window and John laughed as he caught sight of his brother, tiny in comparison to the massive green Thunderbird he was flying.

"Hi Virg!" He waved back, considering showing off his flying skills in an effort to prove that although he spent most of his time in space, and right actually do that much flying when he was dirt-side, he did had skills. Deciding against it as he'd already had one disagreement with Scott and he really didn't want to have another one if he did try some fancy trick in '1 and it went wrong. After five minutes, he double checked the information Scott was sending him through from Thunderbird 5 and sighed, glancing out the window.

"You going to zoom off and leave poor old me then?" Virgil asked him, guessing what he'd been about to say.

"No!" John protested, biting back the reply: _yes_. "And less of the old thank you very much!"

"Huh?" Virgil frowned, confusion showing itself on his features as he double checked the co-ordinates. Thunderbird 2 lost a touch of her altitude before turning slightly and correcting her course, Thunderbird 1 mirroring her actions.

"You said, and I quote; poor _old_ me."

"I still don't get you..." Virgil sighed, failing to understand the complex language of older brothers.

"Well if you're old, then what's that make me?" John questioned him and Virgil laughed before grinning slyly.

"What does that make Scott?" He teased, knowing full well that their older brother was listening in.

"Hey! I take offence to that!" Scott whined, sounding remarkably like Alan. John accelerated Thunderbird 1 to her top speed, still laughing as he left Thunderbird 2 and her pilot far behind him.

* * *

"Excuse me," A voice called out to Tom, and footsteps rang out as someone approached him from behind, a pair of black sunglasses covering her eyes. She had long black hair tied back in a braid and she was dressed in a pair of grey jeans and a red t-shirt. Clenching his fists in frustration, he turned to face her, surprised when she gave him a smirk. "I believe you're working with someone called Sam?"

"Yes...what's this got to do with you?" Knowing he'd been a little too rude the moment the sentence came out of his mouth, he considered backtracking only to have the woman break into his thought process.

"I believe you may have lost him...in more the one sense." She leaned closer, dropping photographs from earlier on the path in front of him. "You should learn to leave well alone. The 'ghost sub' as you call it has more than enough evidence to want revenge."

"What the hell?" Tom snapped at her. "For god's sake! Who are you?"

"You really want to know?" She gave him a wink. "You made a mistake matey. There weren't four people on that boat that day before they reached the trouble. There were five. Except the reports didn't tell you about that, did they? No, my brother and I know that someone tampered with our radio. We don't know who, either, but we also know that International Rescue could have picked up on our radio call for help. Well, my brother doesn't know. He doesn't remember. Brain damage you see, but I remember everything. And they do say revenge is a dish best served cold."

"You're crazy!" Tom told her, with a feeling of dread as he tried to call Sam on the mobile for it to tell him **_number unavailable._**_ Oh crap... _He thought as the woman slowly sauntered away. "Wait! What were you talking about, that I've lost Sam?"

"You already know that," she replied, smirking before stepping into a black car that sped off in a cloud of dust. Tom stared after her, before trying the mobile again.

"Come on! Pick up Sam, for crying out loud." He yelled into the phone, not at all surprised when it told him **_number unavailable_** again. Slipping it back into his pocket, he stood up straight, wondering if he should continue to the bay, or head for the town where Sam had been heading when the mobile rang again, vibrating in his pocket.

"Sam! Where are you?" He called into it only to have a totally different voice answer.

"Hello? This is International Rescue. We've got some information on where our missing...um...colleague may be, and we'd like to help you guys."

"Yes. Oh right." Tom felt a breeze rise up around him and a rumbling noise came from behind him as a shadow fell over the pathway, as Thunderbird 1 descended to the ground. A tall blond haired figure jumped out and offered him a smile.

"International Rescue. Pleased to meet you," the figure told him cheerfully.

"Thomas Winters. Pleased to meet _you_." He replied, feeling rather bemused. He hadn't been expecting the Thunderbirds to suddenly turn up. The blond guy grinned as Tom stared up at Thunderbird 1 in awe, with an expression of glee that he normally didn't show on his face.

"You think Thunderbird 1's impressive? Wait another few minutes." The guy told him. His watch vibrated and he glanced down at it. "Go ahead Thunderbird 2."

"ETA: 15 minutes." A voice called out the watch and Tom caught himself trying to peer closer at the large silver Thunderbird in front of him.

"FAB." The guy looked at Tom in amusement.

"So...this is your Thunderbird?" Tom asked him and he laughed.

"I'm not meant to answer that, but no. I'm just flying her for the time being until her actual pilot gets back." He told Tom who nodded.

"Right. I won't ask any more questions."

"Sure...Tom did you say your name was?"

"Yeah," Tom confirmed, taking off his sunglasses, folding them up and placing them in his shirt pocket. The guy frowned for a moment before leaning closer.

"Look, my name's quite common so I can tell you. I'm John."

"Pleased to meet you."

* * *

Shifting the backpack onto his shoulders, the tracker safely tucked into his pocket, Gordon edged the door open slightly, peering out into the dimly lit corridor. The lights in the main control room were much brighter and he didn't like the idea of having shadows where his enemy could hide, unseen by him.

Shivering slightly in his damp uniform, he glanced down at the maps he was clutching in his fists. He'd marked out roughly where he thought the hatch should be. If everything didn't look so damn similar than it would be a whole lot easier to get back to '4.

"Well here goes nothing," he murmured and stepped out in the hallway. Nothing happened and he laughed. "Jeez that was so intense. I feel like I'm attempting to survive a night during _The Purge._" The door slid shut behind him, making him jump and he frowned, beginning to curse his nerves. _Stop being freaked out by every little movement!_

The maps told him to carry on the down the corridor but he knew for sure that there was a dead end there. Unless there was some sort of camouflaged door. Gordon had to admit that sounded a lot like a fiction novel, but with everything that had happened, it would never surprise him.

Passing the door that led to the room with the corpse in he stopped and shuddered as a small movement came from within the room. Hoping it wasn't the stalker guy, he carried on, careful not to make a sound when he definitely heard a footstep from the room. Breaking into a run, he found himself sprinting down the corridor until he all but crashed into the wall.

Standing back, he inspected it only to see a tiny crack, barely as thick as a thread. Pressing his fingers against it, he was surprised when the wall quivered and then slid open.

"So that's how you open it," he realised aloud, casting his eyes skyward. "That was so obvious...why didn't I realise that before?"

The door slid shut behind him with a quiet hiss and a gurgle of water came from somewhere. Gordon glanced around him at his new surroundings and then stepped towards the large metal door in front of him. Placing his hand on it and giving it a slight shove, he was surprised when it opened first time, giving way to reveal a large room that resembled Brains' lab with testing tubes and chemicals.

"Right..." He murmured. "Now what?" Dropping the backpack to the floor, curiosity took the better of him as he leant over the metal table, its polished surface gleaming. The bubbling of the chemical in the test tube was almost relaxing and he reached for the files to read more about what the chemical did, only to remember that the information had been rubbed out by the ash like substance.

The tingling sensation in his fingertips reminded him of the fact the chemical burnt when it got warmer and he frowned, considering what use that would be. Certainly for people in hot countries who needed to make a fire, or even in the cold countries, where they could keep it cool so that it was dormant until they needed to use it, when they would just breathe on it or something, allowing it to warm up and release its heat.

Whatever the reason for it, it was an impressive find, although Gordon help but wish he'd found out the easy way of the fact it burnt when it warmed up, instead of having the burn marks on his fingertips.

"Does it burn anything?" He wondered, suddenly remembering something. The gurgling of water...and the fact he'd turned the heating systems on, when there was this chemical everywhere in the ship...if it did burn anything, then he was in for serious trouble.

Leaving the pack behind him apart from the tracker, he headed back to the secret door, pressing his fingertips on it, surprised when nothing happened. A quick glance upwards revealed a keypad, the silver buttons gleaming nicely beside a red light, signalling the door was locked. On this side of the door, to make sure it was only the correct people who could take the chemical out of the testing area and the lab, you could only open the doorway into the corridor with the correct pin. A pin that Gordon was only too aware he didn't have.

"Idiot!" He yelled at himself, punching the door, regretting it as he rubbed his fist, grimacing. "Okay, that was a bad idea." He admitted, tantrum over. Closing his eyes, he tried any old number, pressing the buttons randomly.

"Access denied," a cheerful electronic voice told him robotically, infuriating him.

"Yeah, yeah, I get that." He muttered, trying again, despite the knowledge that it was pointless. In typical stubbornness though, he kept trying, unable to give in because giving in meant dying and he really did not want that to happen.

"Access denied."

"Access deny yourself!" He shouted at it, the feeling of frustration returning. The feeling of boredom when waiting out the hurricane on Tracy Island seemed a long time ago. "I would be bored for the rest of my life if only I could get out of here," he muttered, looking down at the little white tracker which was still blinking its light at him comfortingly, as if to reassure him that his family were on their way. "Not that they'd be able to find me in this place: the entire sub is a maze," he sighed, leaning against the closed door. "Great, so if the chemical does burn everything then I can just wait here to drown in the odd hope that my family might just get here first to save me. If not, then oh well, just die." He announced sarcastically, trying to deny the feeling of overwhelming desperation.

He felt like he was drowning in the darkness. He worked in a team. He'd always been in a large family. Now he was by himself, and because of last year, because of that last terrifying experience, and not being able to breathe, and only Alan being able to talk to him because of that stupid radio malfunction, he was panicking inwardly.

Something behind him moved and he leant to his feet to see the door quivering, signalling someone was trying to enter. "Great. Time to move. Again." He fixed the door with one last glare before slinging his pack over his shoulders and hurrying down the corridor behind the lab, in a desperate attempt to stay alive in time for his family to save him.

The 'stalker guy' entered the area where Gordon had been sitting a few seconds before, a cruel sneer working its way across his features. The darkness continued into the lab, leaning down to the floor where a map was left, discarded, red pen scribbled over it, marking where the aquanaut was heading. The darkness grinned.

"You're not getting away that quickly," he whispered, his voice harsh and dry. He needed a drink...glancing at the chemical, he smiled manically, tipping it over. With a hiss, the liquid hit the floor, eating away at the submarine, heading towards the cold waters outside. The darkness watched it for a moment, amused. He didn't mind if he needed up in the sea outside, after all, he had his own personal sub waiting for him...or if that failed, a small yellow one he could hack into...Thunderbird 4.

The darkness continued on his mission. He couldn't fail the Assassin once again. He would rather die than face her striking features furious at him. And kill him she would. He had seen her take up her gun and press it to the last guy's head, and pull the trigger.

She called him Alęxi.

He smiled. The game must go on.

* * *

Alone, in the dark, Sam opened his eyes, frowning as he tried to look around him. The last thing he remembered was walking out the door, leaving the air conditioning regretfully behind him and then something had come crashing down on him and everything had gone black. Just great. Now what was Tom going to say?

"Wait...what?" Propping himself up, he glanced around, but there was only a narrow beam of light filtering in from under the wooden door, where there was a tiny gap allowing the warm glow to seep through. Shivering slightly, he dragged himself over to it, examining his new surroundings. "Where the hell am I? And why?" He muttered in wonder, drawing his hands into fists as he tried to think over any possible reasons. Giving up, he instead listened intently to the small sounds echoing through the door, mimicking that of some sort of party...or a crazy parrot.

Clearly there was some sort of business meeting or proposition, Sam realised once the ringing in his ears had cleared enough for him to hear properly, something which he was much relieved about as having hearing damage had really not been part of the mission. The stern voices that reverberated off the walls and through the door to his ears sounded like they were discussing something urgent.

"They're getting closer. I'm worried. We're meant to be making a point, making people mysteriously disappear and then get people to pay ransom, so that we can be rich."

"Do not cross me, I warn you. My brother is the one who kills people, and only the ones who go to near my sub. Or he takes the ones captive when I tell him to. He doesn't take orders from anyone else. He kills them instead. I came up with this deal, and you must obey by my rules."

"I want to make sure that we get our money: that is all."

"You know I'm just in this for the revenge."

"Really? You seemed pretty interested in the money proposition as well when I mentioned ransom."

"The ransom would only work with International Rescue. They're the only ones who could have any means of getting that sort of figure."

"You think?"

"Surely. To be able to build those Thunderbirds, they just have."

"I guess." The gravelly voice sighed and then the sound of a chair scraping across the floor with a harsh screech made Sam wince, and jolt back from the wooden door frame.

"You off to check on our unwanted guest?"

"Yeah. God knows why you had to take him for."

"They waste time in looking for him giving us time to get out of here and then ask for a ransom."

"Right. By the way, did we decide about the International Rescue guy once the ransom has been paid?"

"What, you mean giving him back or not?"

"Actually, I meant dead or alive."

There was a small chuckle and then a woman's voice. "I highly doubt my brother would agree to him escaping with his life. And besides, I have already asked my brother to murder him. I want revenge, and I will get it."

"So we are agreed?"

"Correct. We are agreed."

Damn! Sam hastily threw himself back to where he'd regained consciousness as he heard footsteps approaching with heavy thuds, like the coming of doom. The sound of a key turning in a lock filtered through the door to him, along with a touch of colourful language as there was a harsh high-pitched squeak from the rusted padlock as it was pulled away with a sharp tug from the main lock.

"Up. Now."

Sam frowned and stayed still. Now this was when he was glad he had his training...

* * *

**_Yes, I kept most of the 'Sam Scenes' in this. Mainly because I had no idea what to write instead, and it allows me to give you more info on the Assassin's plan. Oh yeah, it's getting more elaborate chapter by chapter, I'm warning you. :)_**

**_Kat x_**


	11. Chapter 11

_**It's almost two in the afternoon and I am still writing Fanfiction. I have to write five letters, one essay and a twenty page long project by the end of the week as well. I don't even know why I'm such an idiot anymore. :) Maybe I've been brainwashed by aliens at some point. **_

_**I should never watch that film again. If you've seen it - where he gets abducted by aliens and they control his mind and it's creepy - then you'll know what I'm talking about. Damn that was freaky.**_

* * *

"Thunderbird 5, this is Tracy Island. Check the sea level around here would you, it's getting kind of quiet outside." Alan called into the radio, still longing to help his father and Brains as the two older men lifted a piece of the equipment away from the main hanger entrance.

"Hey bro. How's the ankle?" Scott appeared on the screen, grinning as he yelled over to Tin-Tin. "Hey Tin-Tin! Alan's calling!"

Alan felt his smile widen as his girlfriend appeared on the screen, looking worried to hear about his ankle, but okay. "Hey Tin!" He waved at her and she laughed, waving back.

"Checking water-levels...oh, yeah, that didn't just happen. Oops...hey Tin-Tin, don't tell John?"

"What have you gone and done now?" Alan sighed, leaning backwards to rest his back against the damp wall, rolling his eyes at his brother's clumsiness.

"That's my line," His older brother replied, wincing as yet another red light blinked at him. "I forgot I already had one system running, and accidentally messed it up." He sighed as a soft buzzing sound alerting him to an incoming call. "Go ahead Thunderbird 2."

"Good to hear from you Thunderbird 5, do you realise that I've been trying to contact you for the last ten minutes?"

Scott frowned, twisting round in his chair only to discover Tin-Tin double checking the alerts systems for the calls. "Virg, are you sure about that?"

"Yes, certain. Have you not picked up on any of them?"

"No, and the faults definitely not up here on '5 because I've heard from Johnny. Is your radio working properly?"

"Yes," Virgil replied, leaning forwards in his seat, checking his ETA.

"Hang on a moment," Alan realised aloud, a giving a small smile as Virgil jumped, realising his youngest brother was also listening in. "When you repaired the engines so that Thunderbird 2 could fly to Bermuda, you couldn't carry out full repairs, because you didn't have the right equipment or parts for that...right?"

"Right," Virgil confirmed, trying to figure out what the astronaut was getting at. "And your point is?"

"That you would have to have shut down a few of the specialised systems to be able to have enough power for the engines...fuel was never the problem."

"Dammit, why didn't I realise that before you took off?" Scott realised with a start, slapping his forehead. "That was so obvious."

"In-your-face obvious," Alan chimed in, earning an annoyed look from his oldest brother, who gave a small nod to the air-lock, a clear indication that he was the one nearest Alan's precious Thunderbird and therefore able to do anything to it within reason and his capabilities.

Alan gave him an apologetic glance and then activated his watch, leaving Scott to check the water levels. The familiar figure who appeared on the watch face gave him a smile.

"Hey Al. All okay?" John asked him, glancing at someone off screen. "Hang on a moment," he told Alan, dropping his wrist from chest height, but leaving it on and transmitting so that he could return to talking to his younger brother in a few moments. Turning to face someone, he leaned forwards, grabbing something out of the line of vision. "Yes, this will help. Thanks Tom."

"No problem John. I'll be back in a moment."

"Tom?" Alan raised his eyebrows at his older brother as the star loving Tracy re-appeared. "And since when did we tell people our names?"

John shrugged, his tone turning slightly defensive. "What?" He shielded his eyes from the sun as he sat down on some stone steps, resting his back against a tree trunk, welcoming the relieving shade of the green foliage above him. "I figured that as we're going to be working together to find Gordon and to solve some apparent mystery round here, that we may as well at least know each other's names."

"Right..." Alan still wasn't certain, personally finding it hilarious. It was as bad as when Virgil, in his full IR uniform, had filled in a form to adopt a kitten with all his details when they were rescuing a school trip from a collapsed rescue centre when the earthquake struck.

"It's not like John is exactly rare," John pointed out. "And he doesn't know my last name, or anything else. As far as he knows, I'm just trying to find my colleague."

Alan winced at the use of the word colleague, unable to think of his missing brother in that way. To say that things had been quiet since his partner in crime had disappeared would be an understatement.

But that wasn't the only thing John had said that had captured his attention. "What mystery?" Alan questioned, his eyes widening with excitement as he stared at his blond haired sibling.

"Oh, did I mention a mystery?" John teased, as Alan cast his eyes skyward.

"Yes!" He whined. "Now tell me or next time I'm on duty I'm turning '5 into a nightclub."

"What?" John burst out laughing as he shot Alan an incredulous look, picking up a leaf from the steps at his feet.

"John, seriously?" In typical Tracy nature, Alan was instantly hooked on the thought of something that was unsolved, and his stubbornness resulted in him pestering John for answers until the Space Monitor gave in and told him everything, including the tiniest details.

"Fine," John grinned, the leaf now being scrunched up in his fist. "Look, this is really weird. You know that rescue a couple of years ago that we reached too late? The guys in a boat with that tsunami?"

"Yes," Alan nodded, motioning for his brother to go on, years of ducking from buckets of water early in the morning, normally thrown by Gordon, allowing him to catch the energy bar that his father tossed him, the firm look telling Alan that he was going to have to eat the thing, no matter of the fact that it tasted like sawdust.

"Well reports have been coming ever since that day of a submarine mysteriously taking people and immediately disappearing. But the really weird thing?"

"What?" Alan was on the edge of his seat, a touch of annoyance at John for dragging the tale out beginning to form.

John gave him a wink. "Ah, do you really want to know?" Alan sighed and John grinned sheepishly. "Sorry!" Frowning, he added, "The really weird thing is that at the same time a research submarine coming back with a new chemical from the arctic went missing, and ever since then, vessels that have sailed near the area have run into trouble and have literally disappeared."

"Strange," Alan commented, frowning. "Is there some sort of magnetic force or something?"

"No, nothing that would cause ships to be dragged under or something like that. Solar activity is normal as well, which leads to believe that our mystery sub I told you about a moment ago is the one somehow destroying these ships."

"Then...you think someone's controlling this missing sub?"

"You read my mind, little brother," John told him, the leaf now in shreds. Glancing down at it, he tossed it on the floor, casting Alan a look, waiting for it to sink in.

"Then...oh." Alan realised what John was getting at and gave him a concerned look. "You think that Gordon in Thunderbird 4 somehow got...you know...by this sub?"

"Yep. Precisely." John sighed, running a hand through his hair and giving a rueful smile. "Jeez, I miss the air conditioning on Tracy Island."

Alan laughed, shaking his head as Natasha offered him a bottle of water. "Seriously though, aren't you going out in one of those search and rescue submarines?"

"Yes," John replied, lowering his voice as Tom glanced over. "Alan, I'll be fine."

"John!" Alan couldn't help himself as he yelled at the image of his brother. "Are you kidding me? Please say you are! Every sub that's gone into that area has disappeared! Including Thunderbird 4 and you know how much skill Gords had in handling her! And yet you still insist on going out there?"

"Alan." John gave him a firm look, trying to stop the uneasy feeling he had about going out in the sub himself from creeping onto his face. "I'll be careful, okay?"

"No, it's not okay! Those subs aren't as specialised as '4 was and you know what happened to her! Jeez Johnny, you're practically signing your own death sentence!"

John cringed and Alan blinked, realising what he'd just said. "I...John, please don't go out there."

"What do you expect me to do? Just wait around here gathering information and just hope Gords is going to turn up, alive and well?" John leant forwards. "Alan, you know I need to go in that sub. Anyway, Virgil's here. The moment I tell him something's going wrong, if it does, he can get another rescue team out."

"Johnny." Alan gave him a pleading look. "You've practically drowned yourself once in the last twenty-four hours, isn't that enough?"

"Listen Al, I'll be fine." His expression darkened as he glanced out at the ocean surrounding the island. "It may be our only chance of getting Gordon back, so I need to go."

"But..." Alan found himself unable to come up with an excuse and instead just stared at him in mute desperation. "FAB," he replied quietly.

"Thanks Al. Look, I need to talk to Dad. Is he there?" John gave the youngest Tracy a smile.

"Well he hasn't popped out for a take away," Alan muttered sarcastically. "We're surrounded by water." Twisting round in his seat, he looked across the hanger to where Jeff stood back from the equipment he'd shifted, examining his work. Glancing up at his son's call, he broke into a jog, reaching Alan in a matter of seconds.

"John, what's the situation at Bermuda?" He asked, spotting the eldest of his blond haired sons on the screen.

John's gaze flickered from Alan to his father, without Alan noticing. Jeff frowned for a moment, figuring that there was something else that John hadn't told his younger brother. Surreptitiously pressing a button on the video call, he greeted Scott with nod towards Alan who was still nagging John to tell him more information about the submarine trip to find the culprit who'd taken Thunderbird 4.

"Alan, Scott's got some information for you," Jeff told his son. Alan glanced over at the other screen and sighed, before limping over to the other chair.

"Oh thanks, Sprout. You could at least act a little pleased to see me," Scott remarked, noticing Thunderbird 2 was on final approach to Bermuda. Confirming that he'd received the updated ETA, he cut the call and gave Alan his full attention.

"Sorry." Alan sighed. "I just can't help but think Johnny's hiding something from me."

Scott cast a surprised look over his brother. The kid picked up on a whole lot more than they gave him credit for, he realised. "I haven't heard from him yet, not since he arrived at Bermuda," He admitted and Alan frowned, sitting up from where he'd slouched in the chair.

"Really? I called him a few minutes ago, and he was talking to the guy in charge...Tom."

"They're on first name terms already?" Scott raised an eyebrow.

"Apparently John decided to announce his name to this guy...I don't know. Did he tell you about the mysteries around that part of the Ocean?"

"Alan..."

"Oh, right, yeah. You haven't spoken to him. Sorry."

"Well you'll be pleased to know that the water levels are falling again..."

Back where John was on the screen, Jeff double checked that Alan was pre-occupied in talking to his older brother before turning to John, who was waiting patiently.

"Dad?"

"Yes, sorry. I just had to make sure he wasn't listening." Wondering what was so strange that John didn't want Alan to know about, despite the automatic way the older siblings tried to protect the kid, Jeff still couldn't help suspect something was wrong. "What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Actually...it's about this sub mission I'm going on. We've got a basic position for where Gordon is, so we're going down in the search and rescue sub."

"I suspect a 'but' here. What's the catch?"

"We suspect there's an anterior motive to Thunderbird 4's disappearance...as in we think someone's taken it. So that they don't pick up on us, we're turning on a system that makes us invisible to any scanners, which, unfortunately, includes Thunderbird 5. What I lied to Alan about is that of something goes wrong, I won't be able to contact Virgil about it...I won't be able to contact anyone. We're turning off the radios, trackers and we won't be putting out any mayday calls. If we don't find Gordon, then we can't come back to the island because that will put the islanders in danger."

"Cut to the point, John." Jeff rubbed his chin, sighing. It had been a long and tiring twenty-four hours and he really didn't think he could deal with anymore bad news. He'd nearly lost his son once, in the hurricane.

"The point is that...once I go down in that sub, if I don't find Gordon then I won't be able to contact any of you...and I won't becoming home...ever."

"W-what?" Jeff hadn't meant to stammer, but his son's confession had blown him.

"I'm just letting you know." John started torturing another leaf, unable to meet his father's eyes, instead staring down at his shoes, which had suddenly become very interesting.

"But what you're saying is that if you don't find Gordon then you won't be coming home for years."

"No."

"No?" Hoping he'd miss-heard the first time, Jeff found that hope extinguished when he saw the expression on his son's face.

"No...If I don't find Gords then I won't becoming home again." John met his horrified gaze. "Ever."

* * *

Tin-Tin left the room once she saw the expression on John's face, gathering that he wanted to speak to his older brother alone. Settling down beside a window at the stars that shine brightly around the satellite, she silently hoped that everyone would come home safely.

Back in the Main Control room, amongst the flashing holographs, Scott was frowning at the vid-screen in front of him. Normally he was proud of saying he could read his younger siblings like an open book, but he still couldn't figure out what was so important that John had wanted Tin-Tin out of the room.

"Okay Johnny, I'm alone. Now what's wrong?" He demanded, not liking the way his brother wasn't able to look directly at him. Oh yes, something was definitely wrong, and he was determined to find out what.

"I..." John continued his attack on the leaf, updating his brother with all the information he'd just told his father a few moments before, but leaving out the bit about not coming home.

"I don't like it Johnny. Being out of radio contact until you get back and not able to pick you up on the scanners?" Scott leant back on the chair, tapping his fingers on the edge of the control panel.

"That's not all," John admitted, kicking a stone down the path distractedly.

"What else can there be? Some good news?"

"Ah...no. If I don't find Gordon, then I won't be able to come home again."

"Just for a month, right?" Scott didn't like the uneasy feeling he had about this.

"No..." John trailed off, not really able to come straight out with it.

"A year?"

"Scooter, I think you know what I mean. Don't make me say it again. It was hard enough with Dad, but I guess that's different if you know what I mean."

"John...you mean you won't be coming home again if you don't find Gordon...ever?"

"Yes."

One moment he'd been sitting in the chair, listening intently, the next he found himself on his feet yelling 'no' at the screen where John stared down at the ground.

"Finished?" He asked quietly as Scott sat back down again, still in shock.

"You can't go on that submarine. I won't let you."

"Please don't make this more difficult!" The blond snapped, finally looking straight at him.

It was the 'please' that got him. "Then let me fly out there and go instead!"

"No." The answer was short, and Scott found himself without a back up plan.

"Look, if it's going to go as well as you say it is, then why can't I go instead?"

"Because...oh for crying out loud, Scott! I'm regretting letting you know! I just decided if I for some reason don't come home that you should know the reason why!"

"John! I'm giving you an order to let me go instead!"

"And I'm telling you no!"

"You're...um...younger. That gives me priority!"

John started laughing and Scott couldn't help but smile slightly. That was possibly the worst excuse he'd ever come up with, and he knew it. But that didn't mean he was going to let his little brother go into that situation.

"Either way, I'm still coming back down to Earth. It's the end of my month of space monitor duty, so you can't deny that."

"Yes, but are you seriously expecting Virg to fly all the way back just to go up to '5?"

"Tin-Tin can do it." Scott shot back.

"Seriously?"

"She's done it before, and you know it. You just don't want me down there because you can't guarantee what I'll do to make sure you don't get on that sub instead of me."

"Scott..." John sighed and then cut the connection.

"No way are you getting on that sub, little brother." He whispered into the air. "That's my job. I promised Mum I would protect you and I'm keeping that promise."

* * *

The corridor seemed to have continuing for miles, although in reality Gordon knew it could only have been several minutes since he started out down the large passageway, which was beginning to widen again, leading him to believe that he must be approaching a door. A series of high pitched noises that sounded like metal giving way had come spiralling out from the lab in which he'd been a few moments before, making him glad that he'd left when he had - he was pretty certain that the 'darkness' had somehow blown up several of the test tubes with the chemical in, something which he wasn't too happy about, especially considering he was pretty certain that the strange liquid could burn through nearly anything.

Oh well. He'd just have to try and reach another hatch, ready to be picked up. He knew he was resting all his hopes on his tracker signal reaching Thunderbird 5 unhindered and that it would picked up, and that they would even realise it was him and not Alan, but all things considered, it had to be the best decision available to him. It was this, or give himself up and face being shot by the 'darkness', which he really didn't want to happen.

Wishing he'd just tried to make his way back to Thunderbird 4, he came to a ladder leading upwards, to what looked like a large meeting room that businesses would use. Trying to keep his voice quiet, he spoke aloud, trying to encourage himself, wincing as the sound was amplified off the cold walls and back behind him, towards the enemy.

"Well it can't do any harm to check this out," he muttered. "I don't think this corridor's going to lead me anywhere else apart from perhaps some more crew rest areas, and I don't care about getting more supplies now. I just want to get the hell out of here."

Shifting the pack further onto his shoulders, knowing with the weight of the backpack that he was going to regret it with his back later on, especially as he'd discovered more equipment in the Control Room earlier which he'd added in, just in case he needed it. Plus he'd taken it in case he'd got locked in somewhere by accident and needed something to do, which knowing his luck at the moment, was most likely to happen.

But hopefully not yet...grabbing a rung of the ladder, he stopped for a moment, listening intently as he heard soft thuds in the distance. Clearly the darkness was still on his trail, something which he was none too surprised about.

"No time to waste, then," he decided aloud, and pulled himself up, wincing as his shoulder took his entire weight as his trainer slipped.

"Come out, I know you're here! There's not much area left of this sub to hide in, and I know it like the back of my hand. There's no use hiding, I'm obviously going to find you." The cold voice called after him, seemingly appearing from everywhere.

Gordon glanced over his shoulder automatically, frowning when he was met with just shadows. Gee, did this guy have mental problems or something?

There clearly wasn't much time left before the guy caught up with him, and knowing he wasn't in the best physical shape, Gordon came to the conclusion that it would be better to create a diversion or at least form a plan that would slow him down.

Years of creating the perfect pranks to annoy already irritated older brothers meant that he was able to think of something in a matter of seconds. Yanking the zip of the pack back quickly, wincing as his injured shoulder took his weight again as he threw himself into the floor of the corridor above the ladder to avoid his feet being spotted before the plan was in place, he grabbed a twisted piece of metal he'd randomly thrown into the pack as well back in the Main Control.

Leaning down over the edge of the ladder, he drew back his arm and then brought down the metal with all his strength on the weak point of the ladder, before positioning the metal behind the ladder so that when someone put their weight on the rungs it would come smashing forwards, bringing the ladder and part of the wall on top of whoever the unlucky person was.

Crawling backwards, Gordon didn't hang around to see if his plan worked or not. Instead he broke into a sprint, knowing he wasn't nearly as fast as normal. Something slippery covered the floor ahead, and he tried to skid to a halt, slipping across the strange liquid and crashing into the wall. The acid tang of smoke filled the air, and a quick glance down revealed that the soles of his trainers appeared to be beginning to burn, indicating that the strange liquid was in fact the chemical from the lab.

"Shit," He cursed, flinging himself over the floor tiles, eager to get to a door he could just make out at the end of the passageway, he tried not to think about the burning shoes on his feet. "Open, please, please, open," he gasped, wondering why he was finding it hard to breath. Instead he scrambled hurriedly with the lock, watching the chemical creeping towards him faster and faster. He slammed his fist against the lock, desperate to escape. Despite the fact he knew how to pick a lock, he didn't actually have the equipment with him to do such a thing.

"Oh crap, I am so screwed." He whispered quietly, every breath taken causing his throat to sting. The smoke like air rising from the chemical seemed to indicate that it was being absorbed into the air, which worried Gordon. If that was the case then he would breathing it in.

The door suddenly gave way under his weight, and the pressure of the pack against the hinges, crashing away from the frame.

"Right. Let's get out of here."

* * *

_**Okay then. I'm just going to try and find the next chapter because I really cannot remember where this is all leading. I think maybe there's a cliff hanger coming up? I think so...wait...nope, I'll just have to go and find it...which means another update! Really, I'm proud of myself. Are you proud of me? ;)**_

_**Kat x**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Slightly shorter chapter this time - the cat's yowling to be let in so I have to go.**_

* * *

"Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island. Come in please." Scott tapped his fingers impatiently on the radio, waiting for the reply.

"You're really going to go down there?" Tin-Tin spoke up, although she wasn't really surprised. From the moment John had radioed in and had more or less implied that he wanted her to leave the two of them to talk in private she'd known something was wrong. All that she'd been told since was that John was about to make a big mistake and therefore Scott was going to return to Tracy Island, and then fly out to Bermuda.

"Yep," he agreed, shooting the radio a frown. "Oh come on Alan, what are you playing at? The one time you're not monitoring the radio like it's the last life source in the entire blooming universe."

Tin-Tin laughed, wrapping her arms round her knees as she leans back against the wall, gazing out at the planet below. It never failed to amaze her just how beautiful the Earth looked from the satellite. "So, am I ever going to hear what exactly this big mistake of John's is, or shall I torture Alan until he confides in me?"

Scott gave her an alarmed look. "Torture?"

"Yes," Tin-Tin grinned. After all, no one needed to know that the torture consisted of throwing the last chocolate bar in the bin in front of the youngest Tracy. That wouldn't seem quite as dramatic when put into words, but the word Alan whined afterwards made it all too much fun, and on many occasion Tin-Tin had threatened him with it when she'd wanted to find out information.

"I don't really have time to explain." He sighed, tapping his fingers on the edge of the control panel yet again, his gaze flickering back to the red light in the radio, signalling the person on the receiving end had not yet received the call.

"Yes you do." Tin-Tin let out an exasperated sigh, leaping to her feet and leaning against the airlock door as the radio flashed green.

"Hey Dad. Okay, it's the end of my rotor on Thunderbird 5, and therefore I'm coming back down dirt-side. Just to alert you to Thunderbird 3 landing."

"Slow down, and repeat what you just said," Jeff told him firmly, glancing over his shoulder to where Brains appeared to be disappearing under the Mole, muttering something about water damaging the electronic signal of heat sensors and drilling equipment.

"I'm coming home."

Jeff sighed, meeting his eldest son's gaze squarely. "You've spoken to John then?"

"Yes. I'm not letting him do this!"

"I agree you can come home, but I'm not allowing you to go out to Bermuda."

"What?" Tin-Tin was considering getting the fire fighting equipment reading with the scorching look Scott was now giving Jeff, and therefore the screen of the radio. In Thunderbird 3's hanger, Natasha was also considering that option.

"Because I can't guarantee you won't do anything rash to stop John from going on that sub and I can't have another one of you in trouble. Now are we clear to try and find out what's happened to the rest of the hangers and the house?" Jeff tactically changed the subject, avoiding the furious glare that was fixed on him. Natasha shifted closer to the fire-fighting equipment, only to stop at a warning glance from Brains.

"Yes. The sea levels are steadily falling again back to normal and the hurricane's moving away. You're still going to have strong winds to contend with, but nothing too serious." Scott frowned as Jeff nodded thoughtfully and went to end the video call. "Dad? Can I come down then?"

Jeff looked straight at him, trying to determine the best course of action. He knew full well that his son was going to disobey his orders about not going to Bermuda and would no doubt rope Virgil into somehow picking him up, but then again he had to weigh that up against the risk of him destroying something on Thunderbird 5 by accident when trying to help or track the sub John would be on, although they already knew that would be impossible. "Yes." Jeff gave a small smile. "As if you were going to listen if I said no."

"Probably not," Scott agreed, his fingers hovering over the 'end call' button in anticipation of heading towards Thunderbird 3. "See you Tin-Tin!"

"Good luck," She called over to him as she settled down on the chair, monitoring the flashing lights that surrounded her.

"What for?" He looked genuinely confused, pausing in the door way as he tried to figure out why she was wishing him luck.

"For Bermuda." She smiled, shaking her head as the door slid shut behind him. "And for however you're going to stop John." She added quietly afterwards, leaning back in the seat and sighing. The sooner the entire nightmare was over the better. She didn't think she could cope with much more stress.

A pink light flashed on the vid-link screen and she smiled. Finally a friend who was going to have some actual information. She tapped the holograph to connect the audio-link.

"Penelope. How are you?"

Her English friend smiled, an expression of great concern drifting across her features despite her best intentions otherwise. She leaned forwards to whisper something to Parker, before returning her gaze to the vid-screen. "I'm fine, and so is Parker. But I have some information that only the few locals around here know about."

"A local?" Tin-Tin raised her eyebrows, examining some chipped nail-polish as she waited for her friend to reply.

"Alright, a fisherman. A friend of a friend of a friend of Parker's or something apparently."

There was an indignant cough in the background, and then Parker muttered something under his breath to Penelope, who laughed.

"Oh of course, I am so sorry to forget that particular incident that put you in touch with this particular fellow." She smiled, returning her attention to Tin-Tin who'd just confirmed with the AI that Thunderbird 3 was entering Earth's atmosphere. "Anyway, a fisherman, who used to dabble in the black market told me that he knows a group of people who meet in a supposedly abandoned block of flats on the North Coast. One of them is speaks fluent Russian, and she's a trained assassin, credited with the deaths of over one-hundred people. She's wanted in several different countries, but for some reason she has a particular grudge against International Rescue."

Tin-Tin frowned, trying to recall the last rescue in the area. "Why?"

Penelope shrugged. "I'm not sure," She admitted. "I just thought I should fill you in before I check it out further. Tell Jeff that I think his communications aren't working properly, because I can't reach him, but I was just calling his mobile to say that Agent 9 has been an amazing help."

"See you soon then," Tin-Tin nodded.

Penelope smiled. "Speak soon."

* * *

Having been sent to the office since the storm surge had been confirmed to have died down, and the hurricane had moved on, Alan was relieved when the flashing holograph alerted him to his older brother's imminent arrival.

"Thunderbird 3, you are cleared for landing. You'd better not scratch my 'bird Scott or you'll be sorry." Alan warned him, lounging around in the grey swivel chair as he monitored the orange rocket's descent towards the island. He knew there wouldn't be a touch of damage to his precious Thunderbird's paintwork, but the usual teasing seemed to make everything more normal.

"I'm her co-pilot, I think I know how to land her," Scott told him, causing Alan to smirk.

"Yeah, well there's a first time for everything."

"Like a first time for me actually telling Tin-Tin about the letter you wrote her that's sitting under your mattress?"

Alan stared at him in shock, colouring. "How do you even know about that?" He yelped, horror filling his voice. Scott gave him a mock evil grin, shrugging.

"I have my sources." He commented, reaching across to adjust one of the controls as the rocket slowed, preparing to land.

"Yeah, right."

"Want to risk it?" Scott asked him as the Thunderbird gradually disappeared inside her hanger, the sun blocked out as the roof slid shut to conceal the secret within.

"I hate you sometimes," Alan muttered, leaning down to tie his shoelace, and promptly losing his balance, tumbling to the floor with a crash, bringing part of the equipment down on top of him. Feeling the now familiar dizziness return, he sighed, feeling his shoulder which had taken most of his weight. Great. After five minutes, he attempted to move again when someone tugged the equipment off him, and pulled him to his feet.

"Honestly Sprout, are you ever going to learn how to move without half knocking yourself out?"

"Probably not," Alan grinned, attempting to stand up by himself. "Hi Scooter."

"Hi. Where's Dad?" Scott cast a look out of the window, his eyes widening as he spotted the wreckage covering the decking. The pool was all but destroyed, and the diving board had been taken for a surfing lesson.

"God knows. Somewhere trying to salvage parts of the house." Alan frowned, checking his watch. "He should have been back by now, surely?" He looked up as Scott moved over to the door.

"Stay here. I'm not having you putting any more weight on that ankle than necessary." Scott ruffled the youngest Tracy's hair, ducking as Alan swung out with his arm in annoyance, having been expecting the move.

"You are scary sometimes. How do you know I was going to do that?"

"Seriously Allie? I have four younger brothers - there's a clue." Scott opened the door, grinned back at Alan and disappeared out into the soaking wet remains of the house. The hurricane hadn't been kind to them, as parts of the roof were gone completely and most of the floor was soaking in cold rainwater. Mud was caking parts of the floorboards, and apparently Mother Nature had figured that the newest addition to the décor was to be about five palm leaves, which clung to the ceiling like spider monkeys.

"Dad?" He ducked down under a piece of what he guessed must have been the ceiling once. The door leading to the Infirmary and their rooms was blocked and he shoved at it, frowning as something went crashing to the floor on the other side of the door. "Oops," he muttered, stepping through the doorway, unable to discover anything that had made the sound. Wandering down the corridor, he stared at the Infirmary, amazed to find it had escaped completely undamaged other than the door where something had smashed into from the corridor.

The end of the once carpeted corridor, where Gordon and John's rooms were, hadn't been quite as lucky. They weren't there - the entire end of the corridor which had once led out to another path down to the beach was completely gone as if a tornado had swept through, taking them with it.

"Wow." Scott had to admit - he was shocked. Stumbling over a piece of wood, he stepped out into the open space where the rooms had been swept away. Kneeling down, he surveyed the area. The winds had been powerful but he hadn't been expecting this much damage. His brothers' weren't going to be happy when they saw the destruction. There was absolutely nothing left...which made Gordon's disappearance even more real.

"Right." Getting back to his feet, he double checked Alan's room and Virgil's, bypassing his own. He wasn't too bothered about what had happened to it, as long as the important things with memories were okay then he didn't mind. Electronic things could be replaced after all and Brains probably had new inventions in place anyway.

"Hello? Dad!" He yelled, feeling apprehension building as he still received no reply. For both Jeff and Brains to have seemingly gone missing then something had to have gone wrong. Frowning, he stopped, trying to think of somewhere they would have headed. "Thunderbird 2's hanger," He realised aloud, running for the normal home of the massive green aircraft. Skidding to a halt, he went crashing into something and ended up on the floor. A quick glance up revealed the damage.

"Whoa. What the hell?"

"Pretty bad, isn't it?" Jeff sighed, appearing from the other side of the hanger where he'd been talking with Brains and crossing the floor to help Scott to his feet.

"Pretty bad? Jeez, it's more like we had a bomb go off in here!" Scott stared at his surroundings, wiping mud off his jeans. "It's a good job Thunderbird 5's scanner picked on the water rising when it did, or we'd have all but nothing left. We've lost loads as it is."

"You've seen John and Gordon's rooms then?" Jeff asked him not at all surprised when his son nodded, giving up on the mud and instead kicking a piece of what he gathered had been an old hover-bike out of his way.

"Yeah. They are _not_ going to be happy." Scott frowned, rubbing his wrist where he'd landed on a sharp piece of wood. "Where's Brains?"

"Trying to salvage Thunderbird 1's hanger. It's..." Jeff searched for the right word to describe the completely destroyed hanger, and coming up empty handed, which was enough for Scott who sighed.

"That bad?" He whispered, glancing across to the door.

"Just be glad that John took Thunderbird 1...otherwise you wouldn't have a Thunderbird left to fly," Jeff admitted. Scott instantly set off towards the direction of the ruined hanger. "Oh and Alan's wondering where you are!" He yelled over his shoulder at his father, disappearing through the doorway and stopping dead, finding himself speechless.

"Uh...h-hi Scott." Brains appeared beside him, waiting nervously for the reaction as Scott looked down over the railings at the flooded hanger. The murky waters below were lapping at the sides of the silo with an almost peaceful rhythm which seemed almost ironic as they had almost cost them their lives earlier.

"I...just wow." Scott stared round at the damage, trying to figure out the repair work that needed to be completed, and the costs. On his watch, his personal AI, named Xeon, showed the prices for most of the tech that had surrounded the silo.

"This c-can all be r-repaired," Brains offered, trying to sound as hopeful as it was possible without going completely over the top.

Scott nodded. "I really owe John," He muttered, stepping away. "Even if he did directly disobey his order, although I'm pretty glad he did. Actually, I need to call him. And Virgil."

Brains nodded, watching him go and then leant over the railings. "R-right." He announced to no-one in particular, apart from one of the assisting robots that helped carry out the major repair works from time to time. "I'm going to need..."

* * *

Virgil let out an exasperated sigh as he turned back to where his watch was vibrating. He'd left it on his pilot's seat when heading outside, having some detective work of his own to figure out - namely why John was refusing to speak to him. It was obvious his immediate older brother was hiding something, but quite what he wasn't sure. Swiping his finger across the screen of the watch, he accepted the call.

"Hi Scott," He greeted his brother, collapsing back down into the chair and patching the call through to the main radio and vid-screen, allowing the holograph projectors to kick into action.

"Hi. Look Virg, I really need a favour..." Scott began immediately, heading straight for the reason he was ringing.

"What now?" Virgil pretended to sigh, grinning as he spotted the familiar background of tropical trees behind the pilot, easily guessing that he was on the beach. "Didn't take you long to persuade Dad to let you come back down dirt-side then?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Virgil leaned back, frowning at him. He seemed to have the same distracted air about him as John had, something which was beginning to annoy Virgil. Why was it so hard for people to just be honest with each other once in a while? It made everything a hell of a lot easier.

"So, what's this favour you need?" He asked after a pause to consider his options.

"I need you to sneak Thunderbird 2 back to Tracy Island and pick up, and then fly back out to Bermuda all without anyone else knowing." Scott told him matter-of-factly.

"What?" Virgil stared at him incredulously, wondering if he had heard correctly. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. Seriously, I need you to do this for me." Scott shot back instantly, deadly serious.

"What's the big deal other than you wanting to smother Gordon the second he gets back?" _If he gets back_, Virgil added silently in his mind.

"I can't tell you that. All I can tell you is that I have to make John making a massive mistake."

"You're not joking, are you?" Virgil realised, snapping into serious mode. He couldn't help the feeling of hurt that his brother didn't seem to trust him enough to tell him the full measure of what was going on. At least he now knew there was definitely something going on with John.

"No, 'fraid not." Scott admitted, meeting his gaze and then looking down again, not quite able to look straight at him. Probably because Virgil could read him like an open book.

"That's why you're calling me from the beach?" Virgil inquired, trying hard not to laugh. Clearly their father had no idea what was going on, and Scott was planning to keep it that way. Whatever was happening, it had to be bad. Especially if Alan wasn't in on the big secret either.

"Yes. Virgil, can you do this or am I going to have to hijack Thunderbird 3 and risk death by Alan?"

"Death by Alan?" Virgil laughed, smirking at the outraged look on Scott's face as he realised his younger brother was amusing himself at his expense.

"Whatever. Listen Virg, this is serious. I have to get to Bermuda, or John's going to find himself in big trouble."

"What's going to happen to John? Tell me or I won't fly to pick you up." Virgil demanded and Scott shook his head.

"It's up to John to tell, and I'm not going to tell you I'm case there was a specific reason he hasn't told you yet. I promise everything is going to be okay though."

"Scott, I'm not a little kid any more. You don't have to protect me."

"You really think there's any chance of that?" Scott looked vaguely amused as Virgil all but growled at him.

"So you have any idea how hard it would to sneak _Thunderbird 2 _back to base without Dad finding out? She's not exactly quiet, even if she is the best!" Virgil asked him sarcastically, noting that his brother didn't react to the deliberate teasing about whose Thunderbird was the better. Normally they'd be pointing out the reasons that their particular craft was clearly perfect, but the fact that wasn't happening meant there was clearly something wrong.

"Please?" Scott pleaded with him.

"Did you just..." Virgil tried to lean forwards and examine his brother through the vid-screen and Scott sighed, shooting him a frustrated glare. "I never had any intention of not coming to collect you...you must have known that?"

"Maybe. Listen, thank you. Now find John and try to talk to him...I didn't leave things that well with him last time we spoke, so maybe you'll have better luck."

"I guess he might tell me what's going on, as he seems to trust me more than you." Virgil muttered, regretting it as he saw the hurt look cross his brother's features. "I didn't mean that," he added quickly.

Scott shrugged and cut the connection, leaving his younger brother sitting back in Thunderbird 2 and wondering how everything had gone so terribly wrong in a space of a week.

* * *

_**Ah, family drama. Don't you just love it? *sarcasm***_

_**So...uh, review?**_

_**Kat x**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Do you guys like this new version? I guess I could have published it separately, but I just really wasn't happy with the last one.**

* * *

"John?"

John jumped, glancing round over his shoulder as he registered that he was being spoken to. Virgil appeared beside him, sitting down on the steps as he looked out to the shimmering sea before them.

"If you used metallic paints and used a dabbing brush stroke you could really get that shimmering affect of the light on the water," Virgil whispered, glancing at John, who looked down at his feet.

"Did Scott send you?" He asked defensively.

"I don't obey his every command you know. I do have thoughts of my own, no matter what you may think." Virgil told him, leaning forwards to inspect a beetle that was climbing steadily over his trainer.

"Right. Sorry." John frowned, still considering the possibility that his younger brother had spoken to Scott. It seemed a bit of a coincidence that he should turn up straight after the disagreement he'd had with the pilot. Sighing, he lay back under the palm tree. Tom had disappeared, apparently heading off to look for some other officer of his. To be perfectly honest, John had been relieved, just like he was secretly glad of Virgil's company. Not that his brother was saying that much other than considering painting techniques.

"You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?" Virgil asked him suddenly. John stared up at the green fronds above him, wondering why Virgil had chosen that moment to ask him that. Clearly he _had_ been talking to their older brother.

"Yes," He answered the middle Tracy, but found himself unable to look at Virgil as if his younger brother would be able to instantly tell that John was lying.

"Liar."

"What?" John scrambled to his feet, shocked at the exclamation. Virgil stared stonily in the opposite direction, towards a small fishing boat was bobbing up and down on the horizon, the white sail contrasting with the ocean surrounding it.

"You heard me." Oh damn, Virgil genuinely did sound hurt.

"Virg, I..." John trailed off. Of course Virgil was right, but he hadn't told him because he didn't want to have someone able to stop him from going, and as long as Virgil was in Bermuda, and therefore able to stop him, John wasn't going to confide in him.

"What? Finally going to tell me you don't trust me?" Virgil laughed, and John didn't think he'd ever heard his brother sound so cold. Whilst he may not have had the military training that Scott and Gordon had, he certainly had a way of sounding harsh when he wanted to.

"Of course I trust you!" John retorted, sitting up and trying to move round so he could face his younger brother.

"You know, sometimes I really sympathise with Alan. Sometimes I think I know how he feels. And right now is one of those moments."

"Virg..."

"What's wrong? What's going on John? All Scott will tell me is that you're making a big mistake, so clearly he doesn't trust me either. At least Gordon and Alan talked to me when something was bothering them."

"Virg, I..."

"Don't call me that!"

John closed his eyes and counted to ten before looking at Virgil again. He couldn't remember when he'd last seen his brother so angry...or upset. "Why not?" He asked him quietly.

Virgil stared at him. "Because the last person who called me that who genuinely meant it disappeared and somehow I can't help thinking that I'm losing you and Scott as well sometimes."

"W-what?" He hadn't been prepared for that. John stood up, and tried to take a step closer to Virgil, who looked away again.

"You heard me John. And you're not denying it either."

"But...it's not true! I trust you and you're not losing me...or Scott."

"I know when you guys are lying, and right now it's pretty obvious you're lying."

"Virg, what do you want me to say?"

"What do I want you to say?" Virgil swung round to face him, clearly furious. "You know what I want?" Clenching his hands into fists, he took a step towards John, who started to feel a little nervous. "I would like you to tell me the truth."

"Tell you the truth?" John repeated slowly, and frowned. _Oh yeah, Virg, and how does that go? Oh hi bro, just to let you know I'm going on what is probably a suicide mission, have a good day! As if!_

"Yes." Virgil waited for a second and then collapsed down on the steps, unable to look at him. "Exactly...you're not saying anything. That just proves everything I just told you is so true."

"No it's not!" John repeated yet again, feeling a lot like he was going round in circles. A bit like that irritating hamster Alan had as a kid which used to spend its entire time on the squeaky wheel, especially when John had been trying to write history essays.

"Oh really? When was the last time we just chatted, and I don't mean about IR work."

"Um..." He couldn't remember, John realised with growing horror. How had he even let this happen?

"I just want to actually feel like someone wants me around, rather than just being used as a member of the IR team because you need someone to fly Thunderbird 2."

"We do want you around!" Yeah, he was really failing at this conversation. This was suspiciously like a talk he'd had with Alan a couple of years before. Why did they always end up accidentally leaving someone out. The first year it had been Alan. Then last year it was Gordon. And this year…was Virgil? Bit of a worrying pattern. Was he going to be next? Somehow he couldn't imagine Scott being ignored, as he was Field Commander.

"Prove it to me. Because right now I'm really wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life? Gordon's missing, you're not talking to me, all Scott does is ask favours of me...Jeez, do you realise Alan's the only one who genuinely seems to want to talk to me since Gordon went missing?"

"Virg..." He had two choices now, John realised. He could apologise and let his brother feel worse when he went missing in the search and rescue sub, or he could pretend to be furious back, therefore not letting his younger brother be as hurt when he was gone. After a second, he decided on the second choice. After all, he doubted Virgil would allow him to go if he told him the truth. Scott had freaked out big time – Virgil would be even worse.

"What? Yet another lie to pretend again?"

"You know what? Fine! I just want you to go away! Clear off! I don't need you around! Go and speak to Alan, he clearly seems to tolerate you!"

"What?" Virgil stared at him.

"Yeah, you heard me! Oh poor old me, no one wants me around! You're not the one who's stuck on Thunderbird 5 all the time! Oh yes, everyone ignores me! Well you know what? Who cares?"

"You really mean that?" Virgil looked like he'd been hit and John was inwardly killing himself. He was only doing this for his younger brother's own good! Or maybe that was just his twisted logic? Oh shit!

"Yes! I mean it. Go away; I don't want you to talk to me. I don't want your company, I don't need it."

"I..." Virgil stumbled backwards, stumbling over a rock in the process. "John...what did I do? To make you feel like this?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"So...you just find me annoying?"

_No! No, I really, really, really don't mean any of this! John, what are you saying, you idiot!_

"Yes. And it's high time you knew that. Go away."

"Okay." Virgil turned, heading back towards Thunderbird 2. "And for the record John, I've never ever disliked you. Even when you have annoyed me or, insulted Thunderbird 2, or joked about my stuff. You're my brother...So...I..." He trailed off, and broke into a jog.

John sank to the floor, his back resting against the tree. "What have I done?" He whispered aloud. "What the hell have I done?"

* * *

Sat on a large rock that was still damp on the beach, Scott found himself staring at the waves that seemed to tower over him only to fall back at the last minute. The tide was going out, but the waves were still impressive.

His watch vibrated and he glanced down at it, surprised to see John's name appeared on the screen. Frowning, he accepted the call, settling back against the rock. He had to admit that he was surprised to hear from his younger brother, especially considering how they'd last spoken. If anything, he'd been expecting Alan to call. He'd been hiding on the beach for over an hour, and his brother would have noticed, if not Natasha. God that woman was perceptive. Probably why she got on so well with John.

"Hi John-"

John cut him off, and Scott paused, trying to figure out what exactly had got John so worked up. "Scott, I have just made possibly the worst mistake of my entire life."

"Right, so you may be the one with the most natural dramatic talent, but I'm sure you're over-reacting." He sat on the sand with his back against the rock, ready for the familiar art of advice giving that for some reason he was getting all too used to.

"I'm really not. I'm being serious. Scott...when did you last...you know...just chat with Virgil? As friends, not as IR colleagues?"

"Um...couple of weeks ago? Maybe a couple of days before that? Why?" Scott ran a hand through his hair in annoyance as sea spray was flung through the air at him.

"Well I can't remember when I last did, and we've both messed up this time."

"John, slow down. Now breathe." Scott instructed him, waiting until the space-loving Tracy had caught his breath. "Right, now tell me what's happened."

"Virgil thinks that we hate him. Well, more specifically that I hate him. But he thinks you dislike him as well."

"What happened?" Scott groaned as John looked guiltily at him.

"Well...he came to talk to me and then suddenly announced that he didn't think I trusted him. So I didn't know what to say to that, and while I was thinking of a reply, to quote him, he said 'I can't help thinking I'm losing you and Scott sometimes as well.'"

"What did I do?" Scott exclaimed, regretting it instantly as he caught sight of the exasperated look on John's face. "Right, just kidding. But how could he think that?"

"Beats me. But did you ever see him actually let out any emotions when Gords disappeared?"

"So you think he's been bottling it up? Same train of thoughts as me."

"Yeah. I just kind of stared at him and then I thought that if I...don't come back then he wouldn't miss me as much?"

Scott whistled. "Some pretty twisted logic there Johnny."

"Oh shut up. I know that now. But the point is he thinks it's all true and that I hate him. If he speaks to you...pretend you don't know about any of this."

"So you _do_ want me to lie to him?"

"Not lie as such," John explained. "More sort of twisting the truth." He offered Scott a smile as his older brother cast his eyes skyward.

"Which is the same as lying. The things I do for younger brothers," he muttered. "Alright Johnny. Leave it with me."

John looked relieved as he went to end the call. "Thanks Scooter. Oh...and Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Just in case...I'll miss you."

"You'll come back John." Scott told him firmly. "As your Field Commander, I'm ordering you to come back."

"FAB." John agreed, smiling.

Scott sighed, looking down at his now blank watch when it flashed again. "Go ahead Virgil."

"Coming into land. Be ready." Virgil told him sharply and then cut the connection. Scott frowned. Whatever had really gone on between him and John, it must have been bad for Virgil to have been affected in the way he had. Scott couldn't remember when he'd ever heard Virgil sound that hurt before.

Sitting by the rock, he wasn't focusing on his surroundings until a hand tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey." Virgil greeted him, not looking at him, instead finding the sand at his feet very interesting. Scott double checked that there genuinely wasn't anything like a crab there before speaking. The last time he'd thought there was something wrong when his brother had been staring at the ground there had been a chameleon there, and he'd looked like an idiot for asking if 'everything was alright?'

"Hey Virg." The way his brother tensed confirmed his suspicions.

"Whatever." The whisper was barely audible, especially over the crashing of the waves and Scott found it hard to hear him. Grabbing up the backpack that lay at his feet, he threw it at his younger brother, who caught it and glanced at him.

"What's this?"

"You haven't eaten since you got to Bermuda and you won't have eaten any of the old supplies on '2. Now eat." He was aware he sounded harsh but he knew from experience that when Virgil was upset he responded better to direct orders.

Virgil opened the pack, selected a chocolate bar, sniffed it and frowned before taking a bite. Scott double checked his brother was actually eating before getting to his feet.

"What's happened?" He asked Virgil quietly.

"Do you mind having me around?" Virgil didn't look up, instead choosing to continue staring at his chocolate.

"No," Scott answered him honestly. "You're my brother as well as my friend. Why wouldn't I want you around?"

"John...never mind." Virgil bent down, scooping up a handful of sand and let the grains filter through his fingers.

"John did what? You can speak to me." Scott sank down to the same level as his brother, hoping that Virgil would chose to tell him all that had happened rather than making out that everything was fine. It seemed that today was just going to be one of those days...

"Do you find me irritating sometimes? Or...you know..."

"If I knew then I wouldn't be waiting for you to finish that sentence." He pointed out gently.

"Do you ever wonder why we do this?"

"International Rescue?"

"Yep." Virgil sat back against the rock, tossing the handful of sand back on the beach. "I can't help but wonder why we risk everything for strangers sometimes."

"That's not what this is about."

"True."

"So what is it about?" It was taking all of his self-control not to yell at Virgil that he would never hate him.

"Nothing. I'm probably being childish."

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed the difference!" Scott teased him, frowning when he didn't even get a small smile in reply. _Okay, so that failed._

"Yeah, great. But in all seriousness, do you and John dislike me?"

"What made you think that?"

"John basically shouted in my face that he hated me and wished I would disappear. But not in so many words."

"He was joking...right?"

"No."

"Oh come on Virg, you know John would never mean that."

"You didn't hear his voice. He meant it all right."

"You really believe that?" Scott asked him, hoping for a no.

"Yes." The reply was so quiet he almost didn't hear it. Yep, John had definitely messed up. Damn Johnny's acting abilities. They got on his nerves sometimes. Probably because he was the one left to pick up the pieces after the arguments.

"Then you're an idiot. Look, I'm going to tell you what John's planning to do, because I think that will help you understand why he's lied to you like this. Just don't tell him I told you or he'll probably throw me out Thunderbird 5 into the depths of space without an oxygen tank on."

"Okay. What's he going to do?"

"Eat that." Scott had noticed the energy bar heading towards a rock pool, where it could be easily disguised behind a large clump of slimy green seaweed. Virgil glanced at it, and then took a bite of it.

"Ugh, I'm telling you, that stuff tastes like sawdust. It's worse than the old supplies of water on Thunderbird 2!"

"Maybe. Right, now John's planning on going on this search and rescue submarine to look for Gordon, but the thing is that they're not to make any radio contact or turn on any trackers. The point is so that they'll be invisible to any other subs, as they believe Gordon's somehow got into trouble with this old enemy guy. But the main problem is that if they don't find Gords, they won't be able to come home again...they'd be leading this man straight towards the residents, which would put them in danger. This guy's creepy."

"So...John's not coming home ever again and he pretended to hate me so that I would feel sort of secretly glad when he doesn't return?"

"If he doesn't return." Scott corrected. "And yes."

"Wow. That's...deep."

They both grinned and Virgil groaned. "And I thought John meant all that!" He muttered.

"Yeah...no offence, but that was kind of crazy. All these years and then you suddenly think he'd start disliking you?"

"You can't tell me that there weren't times you thought of murdering us all?"

"What?"

"When we were kids." Virgil shot him a sly grin. "I heard that phone call to whoever was your friend at that time."

"Whoever was my friend?"

"Oh come off it, you always were the most popular kid in your class."

"No I wasn't!"

"Well that's not the point. I'm telling you, you could have been arrested with the plans you were making! I think you even considered burning me at the stake."

"I was eleven and you'd just messed up my history project!" Scott protested. "And I had to deal with the racket Gords and Alan were making downstairs. We were kids."

"I know," Virgil grinned. "I guess I just wanted to remember the times when we used to tell each other the truth."

"You know John was just trying to protect you, right?" Scott glanced across at Virgil, who was now lying on his front in the sand. Virgil frowned, watching the waves in front of them.

"I guess."

"Did you ever really believe him? Honestly?"

"John always was the one with the best dramatic talents," Virgil admitted, which Scott translated as a yes. Dragging Virgil upright, he headed towards Thunderbird 2.

"What's the hurry?" Virgil asked him, struggling to zip up the backpack as his older brother half carried him towards the giant green aircraft that was waiting in front of them.

"When does that search and rescue submarine set off?" Scott asked him, knowing the answer himself, but not wanting to explain why he was hurrying fully. Virgil paused in the entrance to Thunderbird 2, thinking before realising with a gasp.

"Tomorrow!"

Scott cast his eyes skyward. "Finally it sinks in."

Virgil gave him a light punch to the shoulder. "Watch it."

"Watch what?" Scott pretended to act confused. "The mud that's covering the entire floor of the sick-bay?" He asked as they passed the sick-bay on their way to the cockpit.

Virgil swung round on the spot, yanking the door fully open. "Johnny!" He whined. "I knew I should have double checked to make sure he hadn't ruined anything!"

* * *

_Crouched on the floor trying to fiddle with an oxygen tank you've nicked from the now dead crew's survival gear on board a submarine is not the best of things to complete during your life span on earth, _Gordon decided. He tried to shove the door back in place as best he could at a feeble attempt to stay at least three steps ahead of the guy. He still was none the wiser as to the intentions of him, other than the fact he probably wanted him dead. Quite way he had no clew, but then again, he'd sure as hell pissed off a lot of people during his life, many of whom were rich enough to organise an assassin or someone.

"Great." His fingers had gone numb and he shoved his hands into his pockets. He dumped the pack, apart from his own things which he kept, instead leaving the rest on the floor and refilling the pack. Creating a false trail, he quickly swung the pack back onto his shoulders and setting off at a jog through the corridor. He still wasn't sure what had happened to drain him of so much energy in such a short period of time, but he'd put it down to lack of food.

"Hello!" The guy was yelling out, but his voice was ice cold, the same tone that Gordon had heard only once before, in Scott's voice when his brother had spoken to the Hood. Maybe this guy was working for the Hood? Nah, it seemed too much of a coincidence. Besides, the Hood preferred to plain torture them - this was far too kind for a Hood plan.

"Clear off," Gordon muttered, holding his breath as he silently hoped the guy would find the false trail. The shadows he was surrounded by could have the darkness hiding in anywhere. He was pretty much running blind unless he got the man to speak again, or follow the false trail.

"Good plan. But I'm not fooled."

_Wait...what? Oh damn, that failed!_ Wincing as he heard his own footsteps echoing loudly off the harsh metal walls surrounding him, reminding him ironically of a prison - ironic as the sub had originally been intended to be used for something that could save people's lives. He guessed.

"Why don't you wait around for a bit? We could have a chat. I have a lot to discuss with you."

"Dream on." Gordon muttered, skidding to a halt as he came to a dead end. The footsteps approaching behind him made matters even more urgent. _Okay, don't panic!_

"Well hello again." The smirk stretched across the man face, sinister in the yellow torchlight as the spotlights illuminating the sub began to go out whilst the liquid ate through the wiring.

_On second thoughts - panic!_

* * *

**_Yup...so, reviews?_**

**_Kat x_**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Not much to say really. So I'll let you read on...**_

* * *

The wave of hot air hit him the second he stepped out of Thunderbird 2.

"Pretty warm, huh?" Virgil asked him, mildly amused as he watched his brother throw his jumped back into '2. Scott shot him a glare.

"You haven't been stuck up in 5 for a month recently." He reminded him, squinting round at his surroundings as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. Palm trees and other such plants surrounded parts of the town, giving it a feel not unlike the Caribbean.

"Good Afternoon, sir." The pretty blond haired woman standing in front of him reminded him slightly of Penelope and he smiled politely, instantly switching on the famous Tracy charm.

"Good afternoon to you too." Virgil muffled a laugh, earning a jab in the ribs. Instantly he burst out coughing and laughing at the same time, spluttering as he tried to catch his breath, doubling over.

"Is he okay?" The woman asked, giving Virgil a concerned look as the pilot started coughing.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Scott reassured her, casting his younger brother a quick glance. "He's normally like this."

"I," Virgil took a deep breath. "Am, _ow_, not." Rubbing his side where Scott had jabbed him he fixed the pilot with an annoyed glare. "You have surprisingly sharp elbows," he muttered under his breath.

"Shut up!" Scott told him quietly, preparing for another attack and grinning as his brother cast a horrified look at him.

"What's wrong?" Virgil asked him innocently. Scott shook his head.

"You know what!" He all but hissed and then jumped down, landing on the dusty path. Virgil grinned, double checking '2's security systems were working before joining him.

"Great. So are you two wanting to meet Tom? He's in charge of the entire search operations and investigations." The woman offered, turning back to face them. "I'm Laura by the way."

"Scott," Scott introduced himself. "And-" Remembering the rules concerning Virgil's name, he froze and mentioned the first name that came to mind. "And Fred."

"Ah...right. Hi...um...Fred." Laura hurriedly turned away looking fairly concerned that _this_ was International Rescue and they were definitely _not_ the professional team she had been expecting. "Tom's inside. Come on, I'll show you. Are you staying in the hotel complex?"

"Yes?" Virgil guessed and she laughed.

"Well considering you're International Rescue I'm sure they could spare a couple of rooms." She hurried off down the path and Virgil instantly whirled round to turn on Scott.

"_Fred_?" He asked him indignantly, disbelief obvious in his voice. "All the names in the world and you _had_ to pick _Fred_?"

"Why not?" Scott asked him, attempting to sound innocent. He finally gave into the sun and reached for his sunglasses.

"It's also the name of that little creep who I was once friends with when I was about sixteen." Virgil shot back, grabbing the sunglasses for himself.

"Oh." Scott smirked. "I knew I'd met a Fred somewhere before."

Virgil muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath and shot Scott a glare before carrying on down the path. Scott glanced down as his watch flashed, alerting him to John calling him.

"Hey Virg! You go on ahead, I have to do something first!" He called after Virgil who glanced back at him and shrugged.

"Okay. But if there are any biscuits in the hotel don't blame me if I take all the best ones first."

"Food! That's all you think about!" Scott teased him, ruffling his younger brother's hair. Virgil gave him an exaggerated sigh.

"The things I put up with," he yawned, heading off after Laura. Scott waited for a couple of minutes until he saw them both disappear before ducking behind a wall into an alleyway and activating his watch, selecting voice only.

"Hi Johnny." He greeted the blond, who he guessed was still worrying about Virgil.

"Is Virg okay?" Came the predictable reply and Scott grinned up at the sky above him.

"Relax a bit. He's fine, you should have more faith in me, little brother."

"Don't call me that, it makes me feel like Alan!" John retorted, sulking.

"You do look quite similar," Scott began, knowing he was distracting John's attention away from the Virgil issue. He couldn't lie and say Virgil was fine, because as much as the middle Tracy was putting on a good pretence Scott could tell that he was still hurt by John's claims earlier. Plus John was as good at reading his older brother as Scott was at reading the younger Tracy's.

"Hey!" John exclaimed. "He's seventeen, I'm not. There _is_ a difference."

"If you say so," Scott shrugged before remembering John couldn't see him as he had it on voice only.

"Why aren't you on Video Call?" John asked him, echoing his earlier thoughts.

"My watch is malfunctioning," Scott told him quickly, improvising. Gordon was the best at lying, closely followed surprisingly by Virgil, as Alan had a habit of laughing whenever he was making something up.

"Liar. Where are you?"

"Tracy Island," Scott replied hurriedly, ducking down as a familiar shadow appeared where he'd been talking to Virgil a few minutes before. John frowned and shrugged.

"Why not Video Call?"

"Your room's damaged, and I don't want you to see how badly wrecked your stuff is." Technically, this wasn't a lie - he genuinely didn't want John to find out about the fact his room was now in pieces floating somewhere in the sea.

"Seriously?" John laughed and Scott watched him heading for the Hotel only to smash straight into Virgil who had clearly come looking for the eldest Tracy.

"John." Virgil brushed past John, heading for Thunderbird 2. "Now where's Scott disappeared to?" He whispered under his breath. Meanwhile, John had just about overheard him - Virgil had never learnt the art of whispering.

"Scott's here?" He exclaimed loudly. "What?"

Virgil turned and stared at him. "I thought you weren't talking to me?"

John glanced down at his feet and Scott sighed. He really couldn't be dealing with Virgil holding a grudge against John right now - that was not part of his plan. Stepping out of the alleyway, he grinned at John.

"Hey space-case. Miss me?"

"You...how long have you been here?" John was doing a marvellous impression of one of Gordon's fish, gaping at Scott. A bit like that goldfish that Scott swore could glare at him every time it didn't get fed.

"Since I dragged Virg into collecting me from Tracy Island." They both watched Virgil who was disappearing back into the hotel. As the door banged shut behind him, John sighed.

"I really upset him, didn't I?"

"Do you want the _big-brother-will-protect-you-and-therefore-give-you-a-false-answer_ reply or the truth?"

"Both." John gave him a small smile.

"Big brother protective opinion: No, he thinks you were joking and we were laughing about how upset you were about it all."

"And the truth?"

Scott glanced over his shoulder and then shoved John towards the Hotel. "I'm not telling you that in public."

"So you're dragging me into your hotel room where you can interrogate me about the risks of the search and rescue sub mission afterwards?"

"You can read me like a book," Scott told him cheerfully. "Now hurry up or Virgil really will have taken all the biscuits!"

Hidden unseen in the shadows a figure watched them go. Lifting her hand to activate the ear piece she wore, she hissed into it: "You did not inform me there would be a third team member come to visit us."

"What?" Came the gravelly reply and a curse of annoyance. "You think he will get in the way?"

"It is possible." The Assassin reported, backing away further into the shadows, a frown creasing her features.

"Get rid of him. I don't care how, but make sure it's after the other one has got on that sub. We don't want any more interference."

"Understood. Over and out."

The Assassin gave the hotel doors a final glare before creeping away, silent as ever. She had plans to make and a radio call to her brother. As much she hated to admit it, she was genuinely relying on Alęxi this time.

* * *

"So what you're saying is that the rest of the villa is badly damaged?" Alan asked Tin-Tin swinging round in the swivel-chair, glancing out the window through the small area of glass that wasn't plastered with mud and leaves that had been ripped from their trees. He was still confined to the study due to his ankle, and he had a suspicion that the AI would be all too willing to let Natasha if he even made one move towards the door. And Natasha angry was not a good thing.

"Yes," Tin-Tin agreed examining his expression to judge his mood expertly. "As in John and Gordon's rooms are completely gone. But you'll be pleased to know that yours is still intact."

"Yes!" He grinned, punching the air in delight before remembering he was made to be sorrowful for his brothers' sake and tried to stop the smile from creeping back onto his face again.

"You can't fool me," Tin-Tin laughed. Alan shook his head, frowning

"Probably not. Any updates from Bermuda? I haven't heard anything since Scott persuaded Virgil to sneak him out from the beach. How he thought he could get away with that without me hearing Thunderbird 2 is crazy."

"You heard?"

"Thunderbird 2's like standing next to a giant Thunderbird 3's engines whilst she's taking off." Alan stated grandly and Tin-Tin smiled at the image of her boyfriend on the vid-screen as she searched for Thunderbird 2's beacon on the scanners.

"Only you would be able to compare Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 3," she sighed. "And no updates."

"Strange," Alan frowned. "Surely they would have radioed in by now? They should have arrived around an hour ago even if Virgil was flying '2 at her lowest speed."

"I know," Tin-Tin told him gently. "But don't shout at the messenger."

"Right, sorry." He apologised and took to swinging the chair round again, watching the room grow into a swirling mass of colours around him.

"You'll feel sick afterwards," Tin-Tin called out to him from the vid-call screen. Alan shrugged.

"Oh well! I'll deal with it!" He yelled back.

"Alan," Tin-Tin called to him. "Alan!"

"What?"

"You're needed in Thunderbird 2's hanger." Tin-Tin explained and tried to hide the smile that was forming as she waited for her boyfriend to try and get up.

"Okay, finally. Wait, did Dad forget about my ankle?"

"I don't know," Tin-Tin told him innocently.

"Oh well." He attempted to clamber to his feet only to find the room spinning round him and tried to take a step forwards when he overbalanced and lay on the floor, burying his head in his hands.

"Alan?" Tin-Tin asked him in concern when he still didn't move.

"Ha! Fooled you!" He stuck his head up, grinning impishly at her.

"Don't do that," she snapped at him. "You worried me."

"Aw Tin, I'm sorry. Am I forgiven?"

For a moment she avoided answering, terrified of her voice betraying her emotions. Seeing him on the floor unmoving had reminded her of just how scared she always was that he might be hurt or injured in some way. She loved him far too much, that was her problem.

"Tin-Tin?" Alan took another step closer to the vid-call screen. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she whispered. Alan frowned at her in concern.

"You can't fool me." He told her, sitting down again without swinging round.

"Just don't do that. I couldn't bear it if you really had been hurt."

"I'm immortal," he joked, referring to his death-defying stunt out in rescue when he decided to jump into a flood to rescue a kid without a safety rope.

"Please..." She looked at him pleadingly and Alan failed to shut his eyes quick enough. _It was that damn look that always did it,_ he thought to himself. He never had been able to resist that begging expression.

"I promise I will try not to get myself killed," he promised her seriously. "Anyway, I'm on Tracy Island. What's the worst that can happen to me?"

"Would you like a list?" Tin-Tin asked him sarcastically, deeply relieved he was alright. Really though, the sorts of trouble he managed to find to get up to in his own home was hardly something to be proud of. No-one else she knew of had managed to break their arm by falling out of bed awkwardly. Alan was a law un-to himself.

"Ooh, now I'm scared!" He shot back mischievously with a grin as he heard the familiar click from the door, signalling that the AI had been given the command to allow him to roam freely from the study.

* * *

The claustrophobic darkness of the room could have fooled him into thinking he was at home on Tracy Island or on Thunderbird 5, with the power malfunctioning or having broken Panel 4 which controlled the lighting, John thought to himself. He couldn't see anything and stubbed his toe on the corner of the bed, letting loose a string of colourful language that Jeff would not have been impressed with.

Finally reaching the damn blinds he yanked them back, blinking as bright light flooded through into the room. Outside, fisherman were gathering down at the harbour and people were heading into town to open up their shops. The early morning sun had cast an amber hue across the pastel coloured sky, and a few seagulls were attacking a leftover roll underneath a table by the nearest café. Yawning again, he collapsed straight back onto the bed, dragging a pillow towards him. Although he'd never admit it, ever since he'd heard there was a strong possibility he'd never be coming home again he'd been dreading this morning.

Possibly his last ever morning with his brothers...great. No doubt Scott would start smothering him and Virgil...John really didn't want to leave with things the way they were between him and his younger sibling. Virgil had barely said a word to him ever since he'd got back, something which was worrying John. His plan had failed - drastically.

"Oh well. Can't put this morning off forever," he told himself brightly, inwardly wishing he could somehow hijack '3 or bribe Alan with chocolate and hide on his beloved Thunderbird 5 for the next five years. He'd just have to hope that they did find Gordon - wherever he was. The tracker didn't seem to be able to fix on a set location.

A few minutes later he'd made up his mind. Deciding against his IR uniform, he'd dressed and was now hovering in the corridor feeling like an idiot. There was a couple arguing in Room 23 and their angry shouts were echoing out to him.

"Virg?" He frowned when he received no reply, tapping his brother's hotel room door. Where else could his brother be?

_Thunderbird 2, you idiot!_ He told himself mentally, setting off at a jog down the creaky stairs, not feeling like taking the elevator. Funny - he hadn't run into Scott yet. He was expecting yet another flood of reasons why he shouldn't be going and yet it seemed like his older brother had been wiped off the face of the earth.

Unless he was planning something. John dismissed the thought and keyed in the pass code to Thunderbird 2, not at all surprised when his attempt to enter was instantly blocked. Without a second thought he called his brother on his watch.

"What?" Virgil snapped at him, with a defensive glare set in place.

"I want to talk. Let me in will you?" John asked him, frowning when Virgil seemed to have to genuinely think about the question, hesitating for a moment longer than John was exactly comfortable with. Yeah, he had messed up big time.

"Fine," the younger Tracy finally sighed and John grinned as the entrance opened. Glancing round the door to the flight deck, which was slightly ajar, he soon caught sight of Virgil, staring out at the ocean in front of them. John half fell half jumped down into the co-pilot's seat next to him.

"So..." He began, and then felt awkward, digging his fingers into the arm of the chair to try and distract himself from the dark thoughts that hey, this could be the last sunrise you ever see.

"I know what you're going to do." Virgil told him quietly and John smiled to himself. He had known that the moment he'd told Scott about their 'disagreement' the pilot would have explained things to Virgil.

"Yeah. That's kind of why I said those things to you."

"You have some really, really, twisted logic Johnny."

"You would not believe how many times I have heard that said to me over my life so far," he grinned.

Virgil glanced across at him. "You're really going then?"

"For Gordon."

"Why couldn't you let the search and rescue team do it? That's what they're paid for." Virgil muttered, pulling on a loose thread.

"You know why," John told him and sighed. "I just didn't want to leave knowing that the last time I'd spoken to you we'd both been angry."

"So...you didn't mean any of that?"

"Obviously not!" John stared at him in disbelief. "You genuinely thought I did, didn't you?"

"There were times. You have no idea how cold you sound when you put your mind to it."

"Blame my amazing acting skills," John announced sarcastically and Virgil laughed.

"Sure thing bro."

"So."

"So what?"

John glared at him. "Have I ever told you how incredibly irritating you can be when you decide to be a smart-alec?"

"Yes, yesterday afternoon."

John winced. "That came out badly. Sorry."

"Chill a bit, I was kidding you. And yes, you are forgiven." At John's incredulous stare, he added: "Yep, I'm physic. That's how I knew what you were going to say."

"Technically, it's what I was going to ask, not say."

"Oh shut up!" Virgil reached over to give him a joking punch and John ducked, instinctively knowing what his brother had been planning. He only wished he knew what his older brother was planning as well, but unfortunately he wasn't able to predict that.

He frowned at the rising sun and the people scuttling around like beetles. There was a small group of tourists eating breakfasts at the café. The seagulls were hovering nearby, their wicked looking beaks clenched shut as they eyed the delights spread out across the table below them.

God knew what Scott was up to, he figured at last. But he wasn't about to spend his last morning in the sunshine worrying about it.

* * *

"All set?" Tom leant against the wooden doorframe, glancing over his shoulder distractedly at his colleague.

"Almost," The man in charge of the rescue sub reported, appearing in the room in front of him, frowning as he saw the man's distant expression. Having worked with Tom for years as part of the field work team, he knew when something was wrong with his old friend.

"Good." The distracted note was back in Tom's voice, he noted.

"What's wrong?" He asked his friend. The older man was going to be no use to them if he was worrying about something else - any mistakes take due to a distraction could lead to disaster for them all.

"Nothing Dan. Just leave it." Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair that refused to lie down since he'd tried a new shower gel on it that morning.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, amused at the fact Tom thought he could lie to him. He wasn't fooled for one second and he knew that if their other friend Oscar had been there then he wouldn't have been either. "Yeah, as if."

"What is wrong with you? I ask for some peace and quiet and yet you continue yapping away like some godforsaken Jack Russell!" Tom snapped at him. Dan waited patiently, knowing exactly what that meant - the confession was not far away.

"You know, technically you should be calling me a Border Collie. My dog's one of them." He commented quietly and Tom groaned, flopping into a chair and covering his face with his hands.

"That newbie? Sam Delmar? He's gone missing." He admitted gravely.

"Missing? Holy shit!" Dam stared at him in disbelief. "Where'd you reckon he's got to?"

"If I knew that then I would be going to find him instead of saying that he's missing," Tom told him, the faintest trace of sarcasm evident in his tones.

"All right, stop taking out your frustrations on me," Dan reprimanded him. "How long has he been gone?"

"Coming up for forty-eight hours," Tom admitted. "At first I thought he'd run off with Laura or something, but that's clearly not the case, but now it's been two days without a word...well now I'm beginning to worry."

"So you think he was onto something so someone had him dispatched?"

Unable to help himself, Tom winced at the graphic description and Dan gave him an apologetic smile. "I suppose," Tom told him. "But I also had a mystery visitor - a woman. She said that I had lost a member of my team in more than one meaning of the word. At first I thought she wasn't quite right in the head, but now I realise she was right. And I ignored her."

"Calm down and think logically. We're on an island; there are not many places he could have got to."

"There are boats Dan. Loads of boats - I suspect whoever that woman was, then she's working with whoever's involved with the International Rescue guy's disappearance. She said as much herself, anyway."

"Right." Dan tried to hide his smile. However much Tom tried to act tough, he genuinely did care, and if anything happened to any of the team under his care then he would blame himself for it - ironic as the man was an adrenaline junkie himself.

"And yet I'm not going to be here to help find him." Tom finished, shooting the floor a frustrated glare.

"Hey, what did the floor ever do to you?" Dan asked him in an attempt to lighten the mood. Tom gave an exasperated sigh.

"Will you ever grow up?" He asked the younger man who gave him an impish grin.

"Nope, probably not." Dan told him. "Look, if one of those International Rescue guys is coming with us on the sub mission then you can stay here and start looking for Sam. You'll be no use to us if you're wondering what's going on here the entire time, and you know it."

"Are you certain?" Tom frowned at his colleague and Dan cast his eyes skyward.

"I'm head of the field work: I think I can manage a rescue mission. And if I don't come back then just remember that you and Oscar are my best mates."

"Oh shut up. You're going to come back." Tom ordered him and his gaze followed Dan as he left the room, whistling nervously. Two hours left until the sub was launched...Jeez.

* * *

Gordon spun round upon hearing the all to familiar cold voice that sent shivers down his spine. The darkness, the man who'd been attempting to kill him ever since the failure on board Thunderbird 4 was standing somewhat casually, but the jagged edged knife he clutched in one fist, twisting back and forth in a threatening manner revealed his true intentions. Staring straight at him, Gordon grinned, feeling the familiar Tracy stubbornness: as if he was going down without a fight.

"Gordon Tracy. How kind of you to drop in for a visit. I trust you have found the accommodation pleasant enough? I am sorry about the cold - I'm afraid that couldn't be avoided - I didn't want this sub burning up before it was time." He sounded more like he was speaking from a script. Gordon watched his movements, attempting to figure out if there was an audio ear piece on him somewhere.

"So you know who I am?" Gordon asked him, playing for time. How long until that tracker signal had been first picked up? He was pretty certain that he should have been picked up a few hours ago.

A cold laugh echoed from the man who stepped into the light as the spotlights flickered on and off once more. There was a long red scar running down the side of his face. "Oh yes. I know who you are. I could easily reveal International Rescue's identity." Gordon caught sight of the earpiece as it reflected in the dim lighting. So he wasn't the one in control, he was repeating what he was being told to say. So there were more of them out there? Well that was just _great_.

"So why don't you?"

"Because what would that achieve?" Gordon forced himself to stand frozen to the spot as the man leant closer towards him. "No, it's much more fun to kill you all off, to give myself revenge."

"You're going to kill me?" It was funny how calm his voice always sounded when he was at the end of a gun. The last time he'd been silently freaking out, but this time he even felt calm. Weird.

"Me? In a way I suppose. Of course, you could prevent your death for a while yet by telling me where I could find your base?"

"You already know we're the Tracy family," Gordon blurted out in disbelief only just realising that the figure in front of him had not been privy to that information, only knowing him as the Tracy.

"So you're all Tracy's? Interesting. So where's your base?"

_Where do you think?_ Gordon thought sarcastically. _Oh, I don't think it could be the island where we live? Oh wow, who could have thought it?_ Instead he kept his mouth firmly closed, keeping silent as he attempted to think up a plan. There was a reason he wasn't Field Commander.

"Now don't be shy."

"Why would I want to put my family in danger? I'd rather die thanks." He snapped, his hand automatically reaching for his watch to remember he hadn't been wearing it for days now since it had been broken.

"How brave. But not very useful. Now let's think I could hack into your Thunderbird and use it to set off a series of explosions along the English coast that my sister has arranged, or you could tell me where your base is."

Gordon straightened up. Just great. Unless he could make up a base and hope no one lived in that area? He'd learnt not to underestimate this guy, but he couldn't put his family or the innocent people in danger.

Catching sight of a small yellow box marked explosive tucked just in the corner of the man's rucksack he closed his eyes, considering the decision he had to make before swinging back his arm and punching the man in the face.

Considering he wasn't in the best physical state, Gordon felt a dim sense of satisfaction when the man collapsed to the floor, dazed as he clutched his nose, scarlet staining his fingers. Blinking numbly up at Gordon, he mumbled in disbelief: "You've broken my nose."

"That was the point," Gordon told him, making a dive for the rucksack and grabbing the box of explosives just as the man began to recover his senses. Stumbling closer to the door, suddenly feeling unsteady although that could have been down to the amount of chemicals that were filling the air he was having to breathe in, he crouched down low to the floor and prised the lid off the box.

"What are you doing? Idiot! Put those down! You'll get us both killed!" The man snapped again at him, attempting to take a step forwards. With blood still streaming down his face, he did create a dominating pose, towering above the aquanaut.

"Oops," Gordon told him brightly as he tossed the explosives onto the burning liquid that was trickling through from under the door. For a moment they both looked at each other and then Gordon spotted the tiny white sparks flash as the explosives caught alight.

And then with explosions louder than he'd ever before, with blinding flashes of white light and then a terrifying rumbling sound, beige the dark water filled everywhere, crashing down on him with the fire ball that was the sub exploding with him right inside it, the entire world went black.

* * *

_**Well, don't say I didn't warn you. I did mention there would be a cliff hanger, didn't I? *evil laugh***_

_**Reviews?**_

_**Kat x**_


	15. Chapter 15

**_Did anyone notice that you got what was seven words short of a 5,000 word chapter last time? Wow. Just realised that myself._**

* * *

_Several hours earlier..._

"Where the hell are they?" Scott muttered to himself, shoving his sunglasses back in his pocket as the sun disappeared behind a small cluster of clouds. So far most of his plan to keep John away from the sub had failed miserably, but then John had provided a solution himself quite by chance by disappearing off to see Virgil, presenting his older brother with the perfect opportunity.

A quick glance at his watch revealed he needed to hurry up or else he was going to be too late. Tipping the white powder into the drink, he was out of his hotel room in an instant, crashing straight into John.

"Wondered how long it would be until you surfaced," John told him, grinning. How the hell he could be so cheerful Scott would never know.

"You're still going?" He asked the younger Tracy.

"Yeah." Silence fell and John glanced across, surprised that Scott hadn't attempted to stop him from leaving. In some ways he almost wished that he would, it would some sort of normality.

"Jeez, it's hot," he muttered and Scott offered him the bottle of water. "How'd you know I was going to need that?"

"I'm physic," Scott told him, leaning against the door. John frowned across him as if waiting for a confession.

"What are you planning?" He asked him suspiciously, finally drinking from the bottle.

"Me? Planning something? Never!" Scott answered him sarcastically, waiting.

"Seriously, what have you done - whoa." He collapsed backwards straight on top of his brother as the world suddenly grew dim. "You put sedatives in the water," he realised aloud, shooting Scott a look of betrayal as he was dumped on the bed. "Why?" The light headed feeling was not a good one.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Johnny. Only way I could stop you from going on that sub so I could go instead." Scott didn't look very apologetic. Actually, he looked pretty satisfied, and irritatingly pleased with himself.

"Wha'? No way." He slurred. Although there was nothing he could actually do seeing as he could barely keep his eyes open, John thought to himself. Selfish git, Scooter. I was meant to go on that sub.

"Yep. Anyway, the sedatives should wear off in about a couple of hours." Scott frowned. "If I read the packaging correctly. If I didn't then it's Virg's fault for not having clearer instructions on the back of his medical supplies."

"You..." There were several less than complimentary words running through his mind but the fogginess was getting worse and he couldn't think straight. Oh shit. Don't you dare give in to the sedatives! Don't you dare...

"Johnny, I seriously am sorry. I did not want to sedate you. But...you know...I couldn't exactly knock you out by punching you or something like that." Scott shrugged. "See you."

And then John found himself alone in the room with the world fading around him. Reaching for his watch, he pressed on one of the buttons. Now it was over to Virgil...

* * *

Virgil was distracted from his sketching by an irritating buzzing sound. At first he thought it was some sort of wasp, and he swatted the air in annoyance. It was only when he finally looked up and sort of looked at the co-pilot's seat that he realised it was his watch.

"What now?" He snapped, grabbing it and switching it on to view whoever the person was that was trying to contact him. Instead a message flashed up on the screen and he frowned. What the hell was John doing sending his SOS alert to him? For crying out loud! Now what? He'd always assumed that his immediate older brother was the sensible one, and everyone seemed to think that he didn't get into trouble. That was the problem - other than Scott, Virgil was the only one who knew differently.

The urgent flashing of the red light revealed to him that he was being sent a message, instead of a video call, which was the first thing that rung a few warning bells. Messages, instead of a live call, just audio or a video call? That was just plain weird.

"What the hell is that meant to say?" Virgil wondered aloud, flipping the watch the other way round, only for the writing to flip with it. The feeling of frustration was back, and he forwarded the message to the main calling screen on Thunderbird 2, where he could attempt to decode it better. Frowning, he activated the tracking device, and then started searching for his brother's position. Finally finding it, he leaned forwards, before double checking how long since John had moved. Coming up for twenty minutes... well shit. That was...bad.

Attempting to call John, he wasn't surprised when the message wasn't received. Glancing back at the map, he considered calling Scott and then decided against it, instead heading for the hotel.

Great. Just great. While he'd been moping around in Thunderbird 2, feeling sorry for himself, John had been in trouble and Scott had...disappeared? Still wondering what had happened to cause both of his brothers to get themselves in danger, Virgil slipped in through the doors, turning on the intruder alert on Thunderbird 2 by his watch as he remembered he'd forgotten in his sudden departure from the massive aircraft.

"John?" He listened for a reply, sighing as he was met with silence. Glancing over his shoulder, he double checked the hallway. There weren't any other people there, and he took a step closer to the door and he promptly picked the lock. The door swung open and he found himself flying forwards through the doorframe, landing on the floor with a thud.

"Ow," he muttered into the carpet, his voice sounding muffled. Raising his head, he tried to spot John, narrowing his eyes as he spotted someone lying on the bed. For a moment, he stared, trying desperately to convince himself he was seeing things.

He wasn't, he realised, getting to his feet. "Johnny?" He muttered, knowing he wasn't going to get a reply. It was like his brother was asleep, although he'd seemed fine earlier, so what had caused it?

"Johnny?" He muttered, subconsciously checking for any injuries. "Wake the hell up."

A flashing light was blinking at him from John's watch and he grabbed it, checking the messages. Instead there was an unsent one, which was why the watch was flashing to try and tell its owner that the communication hadn't been sent. A quick glance over the writing revealed what exactly had happened, just not who had done it...

"Oh that's just great," Virgil announced aloud. "Just fantastic." Although, who would want John out of the way? Settling himself on the carpet, he leant against the bed. Who would want John out of the way anyway? It did mean that John wouldn't be on that sub, and that meant that either Virgil himself or Scott would have to go. Talking of which...ah. Damn. No one knew where he was, but he hadn't heard from Scott at all since the day before. Seeing as John wasn't going to be going anywhere, he tried to activate the tracker on his eldest brother.

No, Virgil thought to himself, he really had not just forgotten completely that with John unconscious, there might be some sort of danger his other older sibling might be in. Granted, Scott seemed to find danger anywhere, much like Alan in that respect, but that didn't mean that Virgil was just going to desert him.

With a quick glance to make sure that John wasn't going to do something stupid, like die or something like that, he closed the door behind him and headed back downstairs. Thunderbird 2 was gleaming in the sunlight, her bright green paintwork a contrast against the ocean behind her.

Virgil considered calling in to Tracy Island and reporting what had happened, but stopped as he was about to enter his Thunderbird. He could deal with this himself, surely? After all, they were on an island: there weren't many places he could get to...right?

Something moved in the corner of his vision, and he spun round to see a leaf blowing in the wind down an alleyway. The shadows seemed like figures watching him and he frowned. He could have sworn he'd felt someone watching him... Tapping his fingers on his watch to discover a direct route into the main town, he caught himself glancing over his shoulder.

It was just his imagination, obviously. He was clearly on edge after finding John unconscious and that was what was making him jumpy. Heading towards where his watch was sending him, he remembered that Tom was expecting his brother down at the harbour shortly. Dammit, he didn't have time to explain.

Tom was just going to have to cope without one of them there, Virgil decided, and then stopped dead as he spotted someone slip behind Thunderbird 2.

"Hey!" He yelled, making to run towards it, realising he'd turned his back on the alleyway at the last minute. For a split second, he knew he'd made a massive mistake and now he was going to pay for it and then someone clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him into the alleyway.

Ah. This wasn't good, the little voice in his head announced. Well no shit Sherlock.

"Get off me!" He growled in a dangerous voice, aiming a punch at his attacker when something hard came crashing down on him and darkness began to fall. "Who are you?" He asked, blinking as he tried to stay awake.

"That's none of your concern," The gruff voice told him in reply. "My colleague told me to get rid of you."

"Why me?" Virgil muttered, attempting to peer up at his captor, who smirked down at him.

"You were going to discover too much."

"Certain you've got the right guy?"

"He said," The man said slowly. "To get the pilot. And you fly that Thunderbird, don't you?"

"Depends which one you mean," Virgil gasped.

"The silver, blue and red one," The man told him with a sigh. "Obviously you were attempting to stop your friend from going on that sub, which cannot happen. And now, I have been given instructions to get rid of you, whatever that takes."

"So you're planning to knock me out, and then...wait, silver Thunderbird?"

"Yes, the one you fly. And no, my friend, I am not planning to knock you out. I am planning to kill you."

Silver Thunderbird...Scott, Virgil realised. The man hadn't been told who the person he was supposed to be getting rid of looked like, just what Thunderbird he flew, and Virgil had been over to Thunderbird 1 that morning. So now he was going to get killed, whilst John was unconscious and vulnerable, which left the actual target for the assassination somewhere on the island wondering where the hell his siblings had got to.

Damn Scooter, I really need your help. And John's, he thought before the darkness overwhelmed him and he collapsed down on the floor.

* * *

In a way, he felt slightly guilty when he remembered the look of hurt on his brother's face. Still, it had been necessary and it was his role as big brother to protect him. That had been one of the rules he'd made with his father when Jeff had first approached him about his ideas for International Rescue - Scott had told him that he was going to be the one to fly into the danger zones first, before any of his brothers could get hurt because they didn't have an actual look at what they were dealing with. Sure, he knew that they had Thunderbird 5, but that entire technology sill didn't give you a physical look at the risks and problems you were going to encounter. It didn't show you everything that could possibly get you killed.

Which was why he was furious that Jeff had agreed to let John go on the submarine mission instead of him. That went against everything they had agreed on, and then there was the fact that even when Scott had found out about what John was planning, Jeff had still refused to let him fly out to Bermuda and stop him.

Yes, he certainly owed Virgil big time, although deep down he knew that Jeff would have realised that the moment he let his oldest son come back down to Tracy Island, Scott would somehow get out to the island. It was a full gone conclusion. There must have been a reason no one had come looking for him down on the beach.

He entered the large meeting room by the slightly ajar door and frowned, spotting the Chief Detective bent over a table of maps – of the holographic kind. The multicoloured imaging was highlighting the most possible areas where Thunderbird 4 could be, and the deepest parts of the surrounding seas were coloured in a deep, darker purple.

"I'm sorry: I was expecting your colleague." Tom didn't even turn around as he spoke and Scott grinned. This guy was good; no wonder he was in charge of finding Thunderbird 4.

"Yeah, I'm afraid he got a bit...caught up with things at the last minute, so I'm coming instead." He explained and Tom nodded, still staring down at some maps which he had spread out over the table. The submarine they were in wasn't large like the one which had gone missing coming back from the Arctic, but it was a lot larger that Thunderbird 4, a hell of a lot larger.

"Right. Anyway, the last co-ordinates your missing colleague sent us lead us to believe he must be around there." Tom told him and Scott frowned, tapping on a different area of the map.

"But the sub he was in was still drifting, so those co-ordinates will have changed. The data we were receiving kept changing but it was giving us an idea of the direction he was heading in, so he'd be more North by now. Around," Scott grabbed the red pen Tom was tapping the table with impatiently and circled a new area. "Around here."

"Alright, but do we know if the submarine he was in had working engines? He could have changed course, if he knew how to work it."

"Trust me when I say that if that submarine had any way of getting back to Bermuda, or some other place, then my broth-uh, colleague would have been able to do just that, and he didn't. That submarine has not got working engines."

"Well thank god for that or else we'd be out here indefinitely!" Tom chuckled, sitting back in his chair.

"You seem pretty certain we'll find him then?" Scott asked him.

'I've been in this line of work for long enough. I know we'll find him, not just think it."

"Great. I'll leave you to it then?"

"Sure. Oh, and by the way?"

Scott froze in the doorway, hoping that his mistake of nearly mentioning that Gordon was his brother from earlier had not been picked up on. But of course, Thomas wasn't the head of his department for nothing.

"I won't mention that the guy we're looking for is your brother. The way you've all been acting makes it quite easy to tell."

"And there I was thinking we were good enough to try and approach Hollywood announcing we were professionals." Scott grinned. "Thanks."

Tom nodded, a smile drifting across his face as he glanced down at his mobile phone which vibrated with an incoming text. "Understood, I won't say a word."

* * *

Sam flung himself to the dusty and slightly bloodied floor, wincing as his bruised ribs hit the stone ground. The footsteps outside the door faded away again, and he sat up, straining his hearing to pick on the tiniest signal that someone would be coming to find him. Today was the day he had chosen to try and get out of here, he'd decided, determined to make sure Laura and Tom were alright. As much as Tom refused to admit it, too damn stubborn for his own good really, and as much as Sam tried to protest that he was just doing his job, it was obvious that the two of them had become good friends and that Tom looked on the young officer as a younger brother.

The day before had involved interrogations: how much did Sam know and what had he told Tom? What did International Rescue know?

Sam no longer had any idea what day it was anymore, let alone what time. There had once been a window in the room, but it had been filled in with concrete years before. He could just about make out the old outlines where it had once been, if he squinted and really focussed his eyesight on the one spot on the wall.

He figured he'd been unconscious for a great length of time. There was a cut to the back of his head, which stung painfully if he touch it, revealing that the last interrogation hadn't gone quite according to plan. Still, he was a fighter at the best of times, and his fiery temper had got him into a lot of sticky situations in the past.

The ironic thing was, Sam realised, that he'd been called out to help rescue one of International Rescue, and yet now he needed rescuing himself. It was somewhat irritating really. He'd wanted this mission to go as well as possible, and he needed the money.

He knew he needed to get out of the room he was, as if the attack on him yesterday when he'd refused to tell them anything was taster of what was to come then Sam was pretty certain they wouldn't hesitate to kill him. Which he really didn't want to happen without telling Laura that he had feelings for her. He'd got close last year at the Christmas Party when he'd kissed her under the mistletoe. Although, granted, he'd been drunk at the time.

There was a small metal grate allowing air to filter through the air vents in the ceiling and that was what Sam was attempting to open. If he could get into the air vents then it was just a matter of crawling through the ceiling till he could get outside and somehow get back to where Tom and Laura were. At least he hoped so, but his mind wasn't really working with him and the moment, so he was pretty certain he'd left out and forgotten some major part of the grand escapade. He figured if he got out then his new nickname could be Houdini.

Clambering to his feet once more, he stretched up with the metal part of his watch strap which had surprisingly not been confiscated from him and attempted to slide it slightly under the edge of the grate and then overbalanced, crashing to the floor. For a few seconds his vision blurred and he closed his eyes breathing heavily before opening them again and glaring in frustration at the damn grate. He was close and yet so far.

The heavy footsteps from earlier were coming closer once more and he shuddered. All of his training was telling him to hide and attack his captor whilst he had the element of surprise but this time Sam was going with his instincts. He'd never be able to take his enemy in his weakened state, especially with the injuries from the day before. Hell, he couldn't even stand up straight without his eyesight blurring and collapsing after a few minutes.

It was now or never, he thought and then closed his eyes, hoping desperately that this time his plan would work. Reaching up he grinned as the grate slid out of place with a slight squeak. Finally! Grabbing the edge of the new hole in the ceiling panels, he lifted himself up and bringing his legs up, rolling over to lie on his back, gasping for breath staring at the grey panels surrounding him.

Lifting the grate back into place, he allowed himself to wait until he'd caught his breath, and to amuse himself by seeing the man's reaction. A few moments later there was the jangling of keys and then a now familiar figure entered, everything about him screaming of hurt and anger. Sam looked away at the haunted look in his eyes, frowning as he heard no reaction before a screech of frustration echoed up from below.

"Damn it!" Several curses carried on, being carried up to the young officer who was crouched, frozen in shock in the ceiling above. "Damn it. He'll warn them of all our plans, and then they'll avoid the traps and survive! They must die!" He sank to the floor burying his head in his hands, and unable to watch, Sam carefully crawled away, silent as a spider, too exhausted to contemplate the repercussions of what he had just seen.

When a sharp pain shot up his side, he groaned. "Just great," he muttered. "I'm still not out of this blooming hell hole." He closed his eyes, and allowed sleep to claim him. He'd escape fully when he woke...

* * *

Tom passed the rolled up maps and documents to Dan and looked his friend in the eyes with a purposeful look. The younger man was still sending a final text to his relatives and Tom couldn't help the guilty feeling that probed at the back of his mind at the sight.

"Daniel, I am being serious. Do you want to do this? You know the risks. And you have Rachel to think about." He spoke softly.

Dan's features softened as he thought about his wife. "Rachel knows the risks involved in this role. I spoke to her last night. International Rescue saved our son from a landslide a couple of years back, we at least owe them this much."

"You're a good man," Tom told him and clamped a hand down on his shoulder. "Are you sure you don't need me to come?"

"Tom, have you looked at Laura recently? The poor girl's heartbroken and it's cruel to leave Sam somewhere where he could be killed without even attempting to rescue him."

"I know. I...just thanks." He admitted at last, not meeting his friend's confused look that focussed on him for a few seconds, the mobile phone's tracker removed, and crushed under a boot's sole.

"What for?" Dan frowned at him, switching off the phone and with one last sorrowful look, placing it inside the blue-grey locker, before handing the key to Tom.

"For teaching me how to be a friend. And for saving Oscar's life last year." Tom smiled at him, shaking his head with a rueful grin. "Go get that International Rescue guy and come home, okay?"

"You got it," Dan laughed, and disappeared inside the dark blue submarine, the sunlight glinting on the metallic surface, leaving Tom watching after him. Sighing, the older man turned away and typed in a familiar number to his cell-phone, waiting for the reply. God knew he needed advice.

"Oscar?" He called as soon as the call connected and the interference cleared, allowing him to hear his friend's voice properly without the static interruptions that had been cursing the calls since he'd arrived on the island.

"Tom! I haven't got any more information I'm afraid...have you heard from Sam?" Oscar greeted him cheerfully, casting a glance at something off the vid-screen and frowning, shaking his head at one of his colleagues.

"No. Oscar, I need you to report him as MIA." Tom told the man, watching as his eyes widened and he swung his feet off the desk. He didn't question the order though. That was Oscar for you – loyal and wouldn't question orders if he knew Tom meant it. Really, the guy was awesome.

"Understood. Oh and Tom?" Oscar looked apprehensive as he frowned at him.

"What?"

"Be careful. We both know you're going after Sam, so don't get yourself killed." Oscar was deadly serious for once in his life, with the concern for his best friend evident in his expression. There was the possibility they were losing the third in their little friendship – Dan – and to lose Tom too would be too painful to bear.

"Roger that," Tom chuckled and ran a hand through his hair as he ended the call, frowning as a lone palm frond fell to the ground a few metres away. This was certainly one of the most dangerous assignments he'd ever taken on, and they all knew it was much more than their jobs on the line.

This time it was their lives.

* * *

_**Slightly over dramatic ending there, which sort of makes me cringe, but hey, I didn't know what else to end it with. *dodges flying books* Oh, what's that you wanted to know? The ending to the evil cliffie? Hmmm...maybe I'll answer that...maybe not.**_

_**Kat x**_

_**Reviews make me type faster, just saying ;)**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Hey guys!**_

* * *

His vision was swimming wildly, blurred at the edges. He blinked in an attempt to clear it, wincing as a throbbing pain shot through his head. Ah, well that sucked. What was going on? Where was he? Hang on a moment...who was he? Shit, this wasn't good. He closed his eyes again.

The second time he regained consciousness he was more aware of his surroundings, and he could actually remember everything. Right, I know things; at least I hope I do. I know I'm Virgil Tracy and that I have four brothers and that I fly Thunderbird 2 and I can remember everything again, thank god.

Opening his eyes revealed he was somewhere dark...and gloomy. And, to his absolute horror, filled with cobwebs. Yes, he had arachnophobia. This was not great. The one window was dusty and thick with webbing, not allowing any light through. The only light in the room came from a red torch, which was clutched in the hand of his captor.

Oh fantastic, Virgil thought sarcastically. Thank you so much for letting me get abducted in your place Scooter, I really appreciate your thoughtfulness. He frowned. It wasn't his brother's fault that Virgil had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he should have paid closer attention to his surroundings. If he'd been adding the facts up correctly in the first place then he wouldn't have been in this situation.

"You are awake I see. Good. We can have some fun." The voice was cold and without emotion and Virgil glared at its owner. The guy was dressed in a black tracksuit and had a gun attached to his belt.

"Get lost," He muttered, realising he could move, as he wasn't tied up or anything. Flexing his fingers, he tried to hide the grin that threatened to emerge as he started planning his escape. Improvising was one of his best skills.

"Now don't be rude. After all, it was you who killed my friend's family. You didn't get there on time."

"What?" Virgil stared at him. How they could be to blame for receiving a radio message too late was beyond him, especially as they had risked their lives in still attempting to rescue them...yes, they had been too late in the end, but it had not been their fault. This guy was mental! Or at least his supposed friend was.

"You heard me," The man told him in a voice that was almost a snarl. Stepping closer, he smirked down at him. "Now, tell me where your other colleague is." He demanded.

"Depends which one you're talking about." Virgil shot back, crossing his arms, and glaring back defiantly.

"The one who flies the green Thunderbird. I believe he could be trouble, so he must die. Now where is he?"

Suddenly Virgil found himself feeling very glad that this guy did believe he was Scott, or else he'd have been killed before. At least he had a chance of escaping with his life at this rate.

"He's very close by. Closer than you think," He told him clearly, knowing his captor would never once think that the person he'd knocked out and abducted was the same person whom he wanted dead.

"That's not true, now tell me." The man seemed somewhat bored, batting a spider out of a cobweb.

Virgil eyed it, shifting away from the eight-legged creature that started crawling along the concrete floor slabs.

"No." Because what was he meant to say? Oh yes, that's me, fancy killing me now? That obviously wasn't going to happen!

"Then you will die." The dim light reflected off the gleaming edge of a blade and Virgil drew back his fist, punching the guy directly in the face. Without stopping to wait to see if he'd been hurt or not - besides, he knew he wasn't at top strength, hell, he'd just been knocked out - he sprinted out the door, and then promptly felt his feet slip from under him, sending him skidding down the slippery floor.

"Well, well, well. This is most interesting." The man towered over him and Virgil scrambled backwards. Time to run. He certainly wasn't going to wait around to see if they talk things out.

"Yeah, it is isn't it? Anyway, see you later!" He lunged for a rope that was attached to a crate of items and then realised his plan was failing. Rather than being able to jump onto the roof of a low lying house opposite and then reaching Thunderbird 2, the rope slipped with the extra weight and then Virgil found himself falling.

"Yes, goodbye." The man smirked at him and waved before the entire crate slid off the wall and fell down towards an open hatchway. Shit, this is bad, Virgil realised before hitting the ground. Why is it always me who gets knocked out? He thought before pain shot up his arm, everything came crashing down around him and then the world went dark.

* * *

Scott wasn't expecting the tall young man who suddenly appeared in room, having been getting ready for Tom to reappear. He was still re-arranging some of the holographs to represent an accurate image of '4's capabilities without giving away too much information on the sub's special rescue tech. Having sensed his surprise, the man flashed him a grin.

"I'm Dan, head of fieldwork. Tom had to go and look for our missing officer. Pleased to meet you."

"Scott," Scott greeted him, still wondering about Tom's sudden disappearance. Heading out of the room to his cabin having met with the man who was in charge, he frowned as he heard footsteps echoing towards him. Knowing everyone was in their cabins ready for descending to the depths of the ocean, he slipped into a storage room, looking out through the door which was open a crack.

He certainly hasn't been expecting to see the familiar person who was walking down the corridor, looking rather bedraggled and covered in cobwebs and deciding it was best to take action, he reached out, clamping a hand over the guy's mouth and dragging him into the storage room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Scott yelled at him, still shocked and inwardly freaking out, half considering whether he should be angry or just plain worried.

"Scott? What are _you_ doing here?" Virgil shot back, with narrowed eyes as he watched his brother's guilty reaction.

"Probably the same as you," Scott muttered, glancing through the ajar door to the empty corridor.

"I didn't come here on purpose!" His brother protested with an annoyed expression planted firmly on his face. He kicked at a crate of scanning equipment in frustration.

"So how did you get here?" Scott fixed him with a pointed look. "Don't tell me - you were abducted by aliens and they locked you up in a room onboard here, but you escaped just as we were leaving." He couldn't help being sarcastic, he'd managed to stop his immediate younger brother from being put on a suicide mission only to discover that his other brother had found his way on board.

"Actually," Virgil admitted. "You weren't that wrong about the abducting thing." He rubbed the back of his head, wincing. "Over the last couple of hours, I discovered John unconscious, then I went outside thinking you were in trouble seeing as John had already been found by whoever has it in for us, only to have someone think I was you, and knock me unconscious. Then I regained consciousness in some dark room, with a guy threatening to kill me. So I escaped from that, to have the rope I was escaping using slip, and then I fell from a roof through the hatches into this sub, and then all the crates collapsed on top of me, and what do you know, I was knocked unconscious yet again."

"What?" Scott stared at him, his tone bordering on rude as he voiced his confusion. How the hell had Virgil managed to get himself into that mess? That was the sort of thing Alan would do, or John.

"You heard me. Believe it or not, I did actually not intend to end up here." Virgil glanced at his brother and Scott frowned. Although he did wonder how Virgil had known John was unconscious, (after all, his younger brother had left out the detail about the watch) he could tell when his siblings were lying, and Virgil wasn't lying.

"Come on," He sighed at last, shaking his head in mock despair. Despite his annoyance that he was now unable to protect his brother, he was glad of the company. Besides, they worked best as a team, like Gordon and Alan.

Virgil raised his eyebrows at him. "Where exactly?"

"My cabin. You look like a complete...oh never mind." Scott didn't bother finishing his sentence, more worried about the fact his brother had fallen from a height and seemed to be avoiding using his arm.

"So," Virgil began as they set off down the corridor. "What are you doing here? And...Damn!"

"What now?" Scott cast his eyes skyward before looking at his sibling, who appeared to have acquired a taste for making sudden stops and startling him.

"I've left Johnny with someone who clearly wants to kill us all on the loose!"

Scott stared down at his feet, smirking as he tried desperately not to laugh. As if someone would have a grudge against John! And that Virgil had believed that...of course he'd known that once John woke up he would tell the younger Tracy who had given him the sedative, but until then the plan had been for Virgil to remain in Thunderbird 2 doing whatever it was he'd been doing.

"Ah, yes, it was actually me who gave him the sedative." For a moment, complete silence fell as Virgil looked at him incredulously.

"You?" He repeated, giving an excellent impression of a parrot. Scott grinned.

"Yeah. I wasn't expecting you to turn up in his place!"

Virgil just shook his head, trying to hide his smirk. "That was not intentional. Anyway, where are we going?"

"To my cabin, and then to find Dan." Scott told him, pausing in front of a door to type in a code.

"Who's Dan?" Virgil frowned at him. Honestly, after so long of secrecy, all these first names were beginning to get on his nerves.

"The guy in charge of this operation. He's got all the information." Scott murmured, stepping inside his cabin as the door slid open with hiss.

"You're as bad as John!" Virgil whined.

"What?"

"Oh, meet Tom. Oh and this is Dan. Hey, did I mention this is so-and-so?" He mimicked.

Scott glared at him, but was actually trying not to laugh. Instead deciding to drag his brother into his cabin, he slammed the door. "I do not sound like that!"

"Sure you don't, sure." Virgil patted him on the back in mock pity and earned an indignant shout.

"_Hey_! Virg!"

* * *

"Virg." Groaning, he pulled a pillow over his head, wishing the irritating voice would go away. He was really not a morning person, and he refused to get up right at this second, so they could just go away. He was _sleeping_. That clearly took priority.

"Virgil! Wake up!" Funny, he could have sworn he knew that voice from somewhere...Someone physically grabbed hold of him and dragged him away from the pillow and he lashed out, grinning as he heard a muffled 'ow'. Suddenly the person was back with a vengeance, and pulled him to the floor.

Ugh. It was cold. Shooting his 'attacker' a furious glare, Virgil made to go back to the bed before the world tilted precariously and he was flung on top of his enemy once more. That was funny - the enemy seemed very familiar...oh. Oops.

"Finally woken up?" Scott released him and unprepared, he fell straight to the ground with an undignified yelp.

"Hey!" He whined, glaring pathetically up at his brother. "It's cold! And too early for this."

"Want a hand?" Scott asked him in amusement as his brother attempted to get to his feet, only for the sub to lurch to one side again, sending him skidding across the floor and grabbing at the edge of the bed in a desperate attempt to right himself.

"Yes!" Virgil gasped back, leaning against the wall for support, frowning as Scott didn't move. "What?"

"Sure you're not going to hit me again?"

"Sorry?" He asked meekly and finally managed to get to his feet. "I didn't think being underwater was as..." He searched for the right word as the world began tilting again.

"Traumatic?" Scott suggested sarcastically. "It's just because of the currents. It'll stop soon."

"How do you even know that? Gordon, yes, he's just plain weird and would know that, but you, just no."

"Unlike you, one of us got up early and managed to speak to the guy in charge."

"Right. Yeah." Virgil sat back down again, reluctant to be thrown to the floor once more as the submarine began moving to the opposite side once more.

"Come on, get changed. I'll meet you in the Control Room."

"Wait a moment, I don't even know where that is!" Virgil yelled after him.

Scott gave him an evil grin. "Maybe you should have got up earlier? Just a suggestion..." He ducked as Virgil threw the pillow at him and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Your aim is rubbish."

"You and your crazy ways of getting up before the sun rises."

"Um, I hate to break it to you Virg, but we're underwater. You can't see the sun rising. There is no difference between day and night."

"Oh _shut up_!" Virgil muttered. This was why he hated mornings, everything was so confusing. Yanking a shirt on, he followed his brother out to into the corridor and promptly walked straight into someone familiar.

"Sorry," she told him hurriedly before disappearing into another room.

"Jeez Virg, if there's a World Record for slowest person in the world, then you've just beaten it." Scott frowned at where he was staring. "What are you looking at?"

"Someone I know just walked past, but I'll be dammed if I can remember her name." He sighed, shrugging.

"Another World Record holder?" Scott stopped teasing him. "Hey, you probably think you know her, but it's just your imagination. Come on, I want to take a look at those co-ordinates Dan was talking about earlier."

"But I'm hungry!" Virgil whined, wincing as he realised how much like Alan he sounded. Just great. He could do without that!

Shrugging, he turned away, breaking into a jog as he realised Scott was way further up the corridor than him. Behind him, the Assassin stepped out once more, glaring after him. It had been so long ago that he'd seen her, and anyway, he'd thought she was dead!

"Sasha?" One of the investigation team came up behind her. To them, she went by the name Sasha Williams, Marine Expert, coming along to make sure none of the rescue attempts could harm the environment. Really, she was unnamed, simply Agent 1, top assassin, the forgotten sister from that doomed boat so long ago now...or so it seemed to her. This was her chance to seek revenge, and she was going to be oh so rich as well...

The others may not be able to contact anyone, but the Assassin had other means: her technology was far more advanced than they realised, and there was no way she was going to play by the rules.

Her footsteps light on the ground, she headed straight after the International Rescue team, determined not to fail this time. "Agent 1, what is your situation above ground?" She called softly into the ear piece.

"Negative on the other International Rescue guy, he seems to have vanished. Do you have visual?"

"Confirmed. Shall I kill them all?"

"Confirmed. There are to be no survivors." There was a long and slow chuckle over the audio link and she smirked.

"This is going to be fun."

* * *

Something's wrong! I'm telling you!" Laura yelled at the middle-aged man in front of her, clenching her fists as she glared in frustration at him. All the information she'd gathered was adding up to reveal a shocking full picture - there was a massive plan going on which they'd just touched the surface of, and Sam had discovered all of it. She was certain that was why he had mysteriously disappeared - he'd been abducted, and there was no way she was going to leave him out there.

The entire scenario had been carefully planned out, and she knew that unless she acted quickly, with or without Tom and her colleague she was currently yelling at (Frank) then Sam was going to die and International Rescue was not headed for anything great either. They'd also just walked straight into a trap, despite having some of the greatest tech that currently existed.

"I am in charge whilst Thomas is away, and I am telling you that Sam is fine and you are not to waste precious time going after him." Frank yelled back, anger crossing his features, causing her to step back in surprise. Frank never acted like this unless he'd been made a fool of.

"There's more evidence though!" She shouted in frustration, waving the paperwork in his face dramatically. "I have it here! Someone is trying to kill us all! And International Rescue!"

"Good," he snarled, and then slammed the door in her face. Freezing as she heard the lock turned, she stumbled forwards, grabbing the handle and turning it desperately. Her fingers slipping from it, she turned back, realising she was locked in.

"I'm sorry," 'Frank' called through to her. "But you know too much!"

"You're not Frank!" She yelled back to him, knowing her colleague would never do such a thing. Hell, Frank was the slightly geeky guy who'd had a crush on her since they'd gone to high-school together and she'd flirted with him. "Who are you?"

"That is not necessary information for you to know." He called back and then his footsteps echoed into oblivion. Sinking to the ground behind the door, Laura stared round in horror as a hissing sound grew louder from the air vents, where the air conditioning was supposed to coming from.

Stepping closer, she sniffed it, coughing as she stumbled backwards. "Gas," she whispered in horror. She had to get out and fast, her training was telling her that. Dragging a chair that was in the corner of the room, she sent it flying towards the glass doors that led out onto a balcony with a kick. The glass shattered, and she scrambled over the chair to skid to a halt.

She was high up, and there was no way down. The room behind her was now a death trap. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she glanced down at the precious information that could ultimately cost them all their lives. She had to get it to Tom somehow, or everything she'd discovered would become reality.

"Help!" She yelled at the top of her voice, cursing inwardly as she noticed how no-one looked up. No-one ever did when it was important. Bloody tourists. "Help!"

* * *

_**Ah yes, sorry, I did forget mention - there's more bad language in certain chapters than in my usual stories - but nothing major until my next story comes out. Which will be very dark. Just saying. Now there's a hint.**_

_**Kat x**_


	17. Chapter 17

**_OFFICIALLY THE LONGEST CHAPTER YET! WHOOO! 5,147 WORDS!_**

**_Ah, so um... *coughs awkwardly* Yeah. Now I've got that 'excitement' out the way, let us continue._**

* * *

"Thunderbird 5, come in please." Tin-Tin activated the call immediately, swinging around in her chair to swipe across the screen. The vid-link was a bit slow, and there was some static here and there but it was much better than when comms had been down altogether.

"Hi Tin-Tin," Alan greeted her, now in his own room, calling her through his watch. "Dad's not explaining why, but he needs a full scan of Bermuda Island right now. And can you locate Scott and Virgil's trackers?"

"What?" She stared at him in horror. "Alan, are they missing?"

"I don't know!" He yelled in frustration, kicking the wall and then shaking his foot as pain shot up it and bouncing around wincing. "It's like he doesn't trust me with any information. Dammit Tin, I want to know what the hell's going on!"

"Then go find out." Although she knew Alan could rush into things, Tin-Tin was dead against just cutting him out of the rescue plans. It was cruel to leave him wondering whether his siblings where okay or not. Besides, he was a damn good pilot, and if they needed someone out there to scout from the air then at least it would give him something to do other than injuring his ankle worse and destroying the wall décor.

Reaching out, she let Thunderbird 5 confirm it was her as the retina scan was deemed complete by the AI and then activated the scanners, waiting anxiously as the powerful technology was put to action, searching through thousands of thousands of information to select the right object.

Tracker 1: Offline, and non-operational.

Tracker 2: Offline and non-operational.

"What?" She whispered. She may not be related to the Tracy's but they were the brothers she'd never had. She knew as well as anyone who'd been Space Monitor on '5 before that the trackers were all but impossible to be placed off-line. Frowning, she slid a finger across a number.

"Tin-Tin! I was meaning to call you," Penelope admitted as the link connected. "Sorry about that. Is everything alright?" She caught sight of her friend's concerned expression and put two and two together.

"Hi Penelope. Listen, are you free right now? I need you head from the other end of Bermuda back to where Scott and Virgil are supposed to be. I need you to find someone for me...I think I've figured out what's going on."

"Of course I can. One moment." Penelope turned away from the screen and dodged mosquito with a gasp of disgust as Parker slammed a shoe into it. The squashed body of the insect slid down the wall, accompanied by a small trail of blood. "Parker!" She called and the man turned to face her, shoe held aloft triumphantly.

"Yes M'lady? You called?" He asked her, with a questioning look.

"Prepare FAB1, we need to head out to the opposite end of the island. We have some unfinished business a rather unsatisfactory fellow who I believe I talked to yesterday. He was the man named…" She gave Tin-Tin a questioning look who laughed nervously as she spotted a warning light flashing at her from the scan results.

"I'm not sure. According to the data from fingerprints scans and hospital appointments in the past, he is called Tyson Hutf from birth. Recently he has been travelling under forged passports of different names."

"Tyson Hutf," Penelope finished. "May I ask why?"

"Scott and Virgil are missing, and I think John's in trouble." Tin-Tin explained quickly. "It's all rather confusing I guess if you haven't been kept in the loop. Sorry about that, but communications have all been compromised since the hurricane struck. I know we have been communicating by your private networks but everything's still not fully capable of carrying out normal calls yet, if you want the privacy on for IR's sake."

"That's alright. We'll find them Tin-Tin." She promised, noticing the way Tin-Tin was clenching her fists, trying not to panic.

"Thank you," Tin-Tin whispered and then cut the signal, whipping round to the red warning light.

Tracker 2: Offline and non-operational. Alert: Hacking Attempt

"What the-" Biting her lip, she closed her eyes before making a decision. So what if everyone was going to be angry at her for it? She was going with her instincts, and she knew she was right to do so, especially given the circumstances. It was almost impossible to hack into the trackers. "Alan, come in please."

"Reading you loud and clear. Dad's freaking out over something, but I can't find out anything else. Brains is none the wiser either. Any news your end?" Alan was lying back on his bed, tossing a tennis-ball from his desk into the air and then catching it again one-handed.

"No time for questions Alan, just do as I say and go with your instincts, got it?" Tin-Tin instructed him. Bewildered, Alan nodded, sitting up on his bed with his back to the wall as he watched her attempt to call John once more.

"What's going on?" He asked her, confusion clear in his voice as he stared at the vid-link. Tin-Tin shook her head, clicking her fingers to command the AI to reboot the tracking systems to 100% instead of 56% they were currently running at.

"No time to explain, I just have a bad feeling about this. I think we're all being set up and that Gordon's the bait." She explained quickly. Not very clear, but it would do, and Alan was clever – he'd figure stuff out without needing to know the full details. "I have Penelope in on the case but I need you out there. No-one's going to notice an American teenager. You could be on holiday. Just don't wear your IR uniform and make sure you aren't seen near '3 once you've landed."

Alan stared out the window at the crashing waves, an unknown expression crossing his face before he stood up and looked down at his watch.

"What do you need me to do?"

As much as he annoyed her at times, Tin-Tin had to admit they made a great team. Thunderbird 5's systems were now on red alert, ready to pick up the tiniest of hacking attempts or problems with the other craft.

"Tin-Tin?" Alan prompted her, waiting expectantly.

"Right," she began. "I'm going to auto-pilot Thunderbird 3 down to you on Tracy Island. It should work, I know I'm not as experienced as John at doing it, and that I've only done it on the simulators, but I need your permission. Do I have it?"

"FAB." Alan replied instantly, waiting for her next command. Tin-Tin swung round and brought up the image of Thunderbird 3 on the holograph projectors.

"Disengaging from airlock," She reported. "And activating thrusters." The red rocket swung away from Thunderbird 5, and Tin-Tin leaned forwards, concentrating.

"Going to maximum thrust," She announced. "And slowing down. Entering atmosphere in three, two, one...I'm through. Slowing down and reverse thrust."

"You can do it," Alan told her confidently, on his way to the lounge towards the hidden entrance to the rocket's hanger. "Come on Tin."

"I'm coming in at the wrong angle," She yelled in frustration, causing the AI to pause in rebooting the systems.

"Just keep coming in, I'll let you know the co-ordinates." Alan told her, relaxed when she considered how close she was to accidentally smashing his Thunderbird into the side of the roundhouse.

"No, I'm coming round again," She shot back. "Hang on...right, I'm on course. Trajectory correct...landing in three, two, one...contact!"

"Yes!" Alan yelled, leaping into the air with a triumphant shout.

"Whoo! Yeah!" Tin-Tin joined in, laughing somewhat hysterically. The AI continued in its task.

"Awesome!"

"Oh my god!" She gasped, recognising the gravity of what she'd just completed. She had no real experience of landing '3 remotely before. She felt pretty damn pleased with herself.

"Ha-ha, oh yeah!"

"Wow." Tin-Tin let out a sigh of relief. "I did it."

"I knew you would." Alan shot her a grin. "Hey, I've discovered a way of walking without having to put too much weight on my ankle!"

"Do I want to know how?"

"Probably not," he admitted. "Anyway, what now?"

Tin-Tin snapped back into International Rescue mode and brought up a full image of the landscape of Bermuda, searching for an area where Alan could land Thunderbird 3. Satisfied she had found somewhere, she turned back to Alan.

"Right," She told him. "Get to Thunderbird 3 now, and get out to Bermuda. You need to find John as soon as possible, but keep on red alert because someone's tying to kill us all. There's a hacking attempt on the systems, and I'm trying to trace it, but I need John's help. You need to get your brothers out of there, and then save the world."

"Save the world?" Alan echoed in confusion.

"There's been hacking attempts, and Thunderbirds 1 and 2 are right in full view. That's a little dangerous and asking for trouble don't you think?"

"Point taken," He admitted. "Right, I'm on my way."

"Alan! Wait!" She yelled as he went to end the call.

"What?"

"I...be careful? Please?"

He frowned. "They're my brothers. I'm going to get them back, and I can't make a promise to be careful."

"I know," She whispered. "But try?"

"I love you." The screen went black and then another alert started screaming at her. She may not have had that much experience with Thunderbird 5, but she knew when some alarms went off, then there was something seriously wrong.

"Alan! Thunderbird 3, come in!"

"Reading you on Strength Five. Go ahead." Alan activated the link, switching from audio to video.

"Go to maximum thrust. You'll need to approach from the East, opposite from where the hotel complex is. If you can somehow find out where about Thunderbird 2 is, then you need to give me control. Virgil's got her on lockdown right now."

"FAB. Hang on, on final approach to Bermuda. What the-"

"Thunderbird 3?" Tin-Tin swung round as an alert read out more information. Communications were going down, yet _again_. Just great. And now she had no idea what Alan had just seen that had clearly shocked him.

Sighing, she stood up, crossing over to the window and staring down at the planet below her. She couldn't help longing to be able to help, she wasn't typically one to stay at home watching, she liked to be where the action was, hence why she'd started taking a more active role in rescues.

The communications going down was just another factor that was making the entire day hell. She still had no idea what the hacking attempt on Tracker 2 was all about - all that could mean was that someone was attempting to copy Virgil's location...perhaps so that if he needed rescuing, they would go to the wrong place?

Damn it, everything always had to be so confusing! Settling back in the chair, she accessed one of the original maps. When International Rescue had first been set up, Brains had installed maps, scans and surveys of everywhere in the world, including underground caves systems, literally _everything_. This was when it was coming into good use.

If she was right, then she suspected she had just found the hideout of whoever was trying to bring them down. But without communications...how was she meant to get that information to Alan?

She sighed. Back to the drawing board again.

* * *

"Help!" For a moment, it seemed as though the yell had been part of his imagination. John stopped, standing in the entrance of the hotel lobby for a moment, listening carefully, but nothing else happened.

Oh wow. So now he was going crazy. Maybe it was a side effect of the sedative? If it was, then he was seriously going to have to have a word with Virgil about that. He was pretty certain that was a very dangerous side-effect.

His watch buzzed on his wrist, and he activated it. "Have you found them? Tin-Tin's attempted to trace their trackers, but the results aren't coming back with anything." Jeff told him from the vid-link.

"No," John sighed, turning his attention back to his father. "This is ridiculous; I've been over the entire island practically. They're not here Dad, they've got t be on that sub." Frowning as the air smelt weird, he turned, looking around. Everything appeared to be fine, so what was it? Whatever it was, it was making it hard to breathe. It seemed to being coming from the hotel, and he stepped away from the glass entrance doors.

"Is there anywhere else at all?" Jeff asked him, a worried frown set across his features. "Apparently Penny's on her way."

"Great, I'm going to need the help. What _is_ that?" There was no mistaking the acrid taste to the air now, and he was determined to find out where it was coming from. Turning back to the hotel, he watched it with narrowed eyes, tapping the side of his watch for a scan of the building.

"What's going on? John? Report."

"Not right now." He muttered, freezing as another cry for help echoed through the air. It was coming from _above_ him? How?

A glance up revealed a balcony and he grimaced. Just great.

"Help!" The young woman leant forwards precariously over the balcony railings before catching his gaze. "Please, there's no way out!" She yelled down to him, with a glance over shoulder at the room she'd appeared from.

"I'm from International Rescue!" He called back, ending the vid-call on his watch with a swipe across the screen. "You need to hang on, I'm going to get you out of there!"

"How? The doors locked!" She shouted back desperately.

"Well that makes my job harder," he groaned, spinning round as an idea began to form in his mind. "What's your name?"

"Laura!"

"Okay Laura, I'm going to get an oxygen mask up to you, then we'll get you out of there."

He broke into a sprint, heading towards Thunderbird 1 when a siren starting screeching, cutting through the air like a knife through butter. Wincing, he covered his ears.

"Fire!" Someone yelled, and he stared back at the hotel doors in horror. Somehow he suspected kicking the door open and running out wasn't going to be happening anytime soon.

"You there! You're from International Rescue! Do something!"

Yes, he'd suspected changing back into his uniform would be a bad idea, but he'd done it anyway, in the hope it would give him access to more of the island. A green light flashed, allowing him into the Thunderbird, and he grabbed the equipment he needed before ducking back out and heading back.

"Laura? Are you still with me here?"

"Just about!" She laughed nervously. "It's getting kind of hard to breathe up here though: I wouldn't mind a lift home."

"Well that's good, cos I've got just the thing. I'm going to use a grapple cable to get the oxygen mask up to you, which will give us more time to work with, okay?"

"Okay." She replied. John couldn't help but feel impressed as most people they rescued would have been freaking out at this point. Using his watch to draw up the guidance of the co-ordinates on the wall he needed to send the grapple rope to, he sent the oxygen mask up to her.

"Laura?" He asked when there was hesitation before the mask was grabbed.

"Right, I've got it." She called back, a determined note in her voice. "How am I going to get down from here though? It's heating up."

"Yeah, that could be to do with another situation I've got going on down here." He admitted. "I'm going to literally come in and get you."

The heat shielding on his suit should protect him for long enough, he thought inwardly. There wasn't any time left to check with Brains anyway, if he left it any longer then he really would be fried to a crisp, a lot like the kitchen looked when ever Scott was allowed in there.

"Laura, I'm coming in. Hold on."

The crowd of onlookers that had gathered around to watch, (a bit too close to Thunderbird 2 for his liking) started whispering. The tourists had started taking photos. This would be one holiday to remember for them. They didn't even know why International Rescue had randomly landed on the island two days before anyway. It didn't make any sense to the public – John could understand that. He didn't care about the photos much – the agents could deal with that later on.

"Okay. And...you know. Thank you." She whispered down, coughing as the cool oxygen started filtering through, a complete contrast compared to the smoke that was filling the hotel a lot faster than John would have liked.

He grinned. "I'm part of International Rescue, I do this every day."

* * *

There was an eerie flickering glow created by the flames that reflected off the walls, resulting in a creepy effect that made it look like he was completely surrounded by the fire. The scan of the hotel had come back, the holograph projected by his watch pointing out the unstable areas of the hotel building. Leaning down to the ground level to try and avoid some of the smoke, he activated the heat readings in his watch, frowning as they came back on the Yellow Alert already.

"Thunderbird 3 to John."

Okay, he had not just jumped into the air. Automatically looking round to make sure he hadn't been spotted, he activated the call on his watch while still treading lightly forwards on the tiled floor.

"Alan, what are you doing here?" John sighed, allowing the projector to show him a holographic image of his sibling. He should have guessed his younger brother wouldn't have settled for staying back at Base for too long, it was only to be expected given Alan's stubbornness.

"Finding you!" Alan shot back, grinning at him, before frowning, recognising the flickering light behind his brother. "Hey, where are you?" Having spotted the amber reflection on the wall behind his brother, he instantly realised where John was. "Oh no, you're not in that hotel are you?"

"There was a young women who was trapped on a balcony on the third floor, I wasn't about to walk away from that," John explained, reaching another doorway to discover it led to the lifts. Not his idea at all. "Jeez Al, you could have picked a better time to come flying in acting the hero."

"Well you could have chosen a better time to act the death defying superman. You know, you could have decided to ask for help before just going in by yourself and attempting to walk through fire."

"What?" John stared at him. Sometimes he really couldn't work his youngest brother out - he still wasn't sure if Alan even spoke the same language as him with some of the things he came out with. A harsh screech came from the corridor as something collapsed from the heat burning through it and he winced. "Look, I have to go, but make sure no one comes near the hotel, got it?"

"FAB. Thunderbird 3 out." Alan agreed, before ending the call. John turned his attention back to the lifts in front of him and groaned. The stairs were on the opposite side of the room and it was going to take longer to get to Laura - time he didn't have on his hands.

The flashing light signifying the heat alert progressed to amber and he glanced back at the doors. Smoke was beginning to fill the air and he needed to get out and quickly. Breaking into a sprint, he grabbed the door handle, yanking the doors open to reveal the staircase, barely visible through the smoke.

Wherever the fire had started, it had somehow got into the air conditioning systems and had ending up with smoke being filtered through to every room in the building. The room behind him was being slowly eaten up by the fire and he forgot about his original plan of looking for a quicker way out once he'd found Laura, instead running full pelt up the stairs, swinging himself round the corner and jumping up several, automatically reacting to the heat.

"Laura!" He yelled, the yellow sign with Floor 3 painted on it in thick black paint just about visible amidst the swirling smoke. Coughing, he attempted to see further ahead in front of him but it was all but impossible. The doors themselves were locked and he grabbed the laser cutter, slicing through the metal. The door crashed away down the stairs to where the flames lapped hungrily. Wincing as the heat alert crept steadily upwards, John entered the floor, still listening for any reply. So long as Laura hadn't fallen unconscious, getting out would mean heading to the top floor, where there would be a fire escape ladder heading down the side of the building, a safety feature that every building had to have.

"Hello?" A voice called back and he smiled in relief. At least she was conscious. Stumbling forwards, he tripped over someone lying on the floor in front of him.

"Oh shit," he muttered, checking for a pulse. The guy was dead but he hadn't died from any natural cause, or from the heat. Scrambling back to his feet, he started running towards the sound of Laura's voice.

"Laura! Can you hear me?" He called through the thick door which he could just about hear her through. She was coughing again, which was worrying him. Exactly how much smoke had she breathed in before he'd heard her calls for help? He didn't have Virgil's medical training but he knew well enough that breathing the poisonous air in could hardly be good.

"Yes! The oxygen tank's nearly finished! Please get me out of here!" She yelled, her voice rough with the smoke. The panic still wasn't obvious. She had to have some kind of training to not be freaking out big time right now.

"It's okay, I'm getting you out, just stay calm," he attempted to re-assure her. "Trust me."

"O-okay." Something came crashing down inside the room and John froze.

"Laura? You still with me?"

"Y-yes." She let out a choked sob. "Please, I'm begging you, just get me out of here!" She started coughing again as the oxygen tank reached critical levels.

The laser cutter was malfunctioning and he cursed as he attempted to fix it and it slipped from his fingers. Dropping to his knees, he fumbled amongst the smoke in a desperate attempt to find it.

"Damn, damn, damn!" He muttered, slamming his hand down as he spotted a form like the missing equipment in the darkness. Instead he found himself touching the floor, helping as the heat touched his hand. Reflexes kicking in, he withdrew his hand instantly, holding it closer to him as pain soared through it. "Ah shit," he groaned, leaning back against the door. Laura's time was fast running out, with her oxygen tank on empty, and so was his.

Coughing as breathing became harder, he slammed against the door. It was no use, he had to find the laser cutter. His vision blurring, he winced as he reached out once more. "This is gonna hurt." The burning sensation re-ignited, he dropped onto all fours, sweeping his hands across the floor, grabbing hold of the familiar form.

"Thank God for that," he murmured, and then set to work on the door. "Laura! Keep back!" He yelled out a caution, realising that she didn't know what was going on.

"Okay!" She called back, seeming calmer. Without stopping to wonder how she was still conscious as her oxygen tank should have run out before hand, he focused on watching the laser beam slice through the metal. A warning light lit up on his oxygen tank, signalling he only had five more minutes of precious air left.

"Come on!" The laser wouldn't cut any faster and the fire was still consuming the building floor by floor. At last the metal started giving way and he slammed against it once more, grinning as the entire door collapsed inwards.

"Hi again," he greeted her. "Let's get out of here."

"Watch out!" Laura yelled, realising too late that with International Rescue on the scene already, 'Frank' wouldn't have just locked her in a room. It would be too obvious she would be rescued. Sure enough a shadowy form appeared around the doorway, barely visible through the hazy smoke.

For his part, John had no idea what had happened. One moment he'd been rescuing Laura, then he'd been skidding across the floor feeling like Thunderbird 2 had landed on top of him. The vibrating from his watch brought him back from the brink of unconsciousness with a start, the pain in his head informing him that someone had tried to knock him out. Great - another set up?

Blinking in an attempt to clear his vision, he propped himself up, glancing across to where Laura was standing, her features set in a determined expression as she glared across at someone standing above him. The dizzy feeling he got when he attempted to move was not one he wanted to have to repeat, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds.

The watch was alerting him that the heat alert was on red, and that someone was attempting to call him. Who the hell was calling him? Alan? Ah yes, his youngest brother was here, in Bermuda, wasn't he? Ugh, the heat was making it hard to think, let alone get up to help anyone.

"Leave him alone." Now who was it? Oh, right, Laura. And there's some random guy attempting to harm me. Right, probably a good idea to get out of the way then... Automatically half throwing himself to the side, he came face to face with the wall, using it for balance as he half climbed to his feet. Turning round, he spotted Laura stepping towards him, only to yell out a warning suddenly. Guessing what she'd been about to tell him, he spun round, punching his attacker and feeling a grim sense of satisfaction as the man fell groaning to the floor, staring up at him with a haunted gaze. Considering he'd nearly been knocked out a few moments before, John still felt confused that the guy had gone down so quickly.

He was proved right when the man was up on his feet a few seconds later. "Go!" He yelled across at Laura who shook her head.

"No way am I leaving you here when you came to help me," she snapped at him. "It's time for me to repay that favour. Duck!"

"Wait - what?" He ducked as a fist came swinging past where he'd been seconds before and mentally accepted her help. Whatever she did for a living, he sure wouldn't want to come up against her in a fight. Aiming a well aimed punch, he found himself being backed up against the wall when a furious shout came from the side.

"Move!" Okay, always happy to comply. Swinging out of the way, he winced as a chair came crashing down right on top of their attacker. Half turning on the spot, the man lifted a hand to his head where a faint trail of blood trickled down his face before dropping to the floor like a stone.

John stared at the limp form in shock, glancing back up at Laura who shrugged. "Training," She muttered, frowning down at the man. "What now?"

John drew his watch up to his face, activating the heat sensors again. "The fire's reached this level," he reported. "There's no way down, although that's not what I was planning before we got attacked by some sort of psychopath."

"Okay," Laura agreed, with a furious glare at the limp figure collapsed on the floor. "So what's your plan?"

"Um, go back to the stairs and get to the roof." John guessed, attempting to reboot the scan of the building once again. He really needed to know which parts where about to collapse in or else he was going find himself trapped as well.

"Well let's go then," She announced, heading straight for the doorway.

"Laura, wait!" He shouted, grabbing her arm and yanking her back from the flames.

"No way back to the staircase," She whispered in horror, traces of fear entering her voice.

"Hey, don't worry. That's why I have a Plan B." He grinned at her in an attempt to make out everything was going to be alright. God only knew why, she'd already proven she was a formidable opponent to panic. "Follow me. We're going to have to get to the opposite end of the corridor to where the staircase is, where there should be a fire escape. We still can't go down but we should be able to get to the roof, okay?"

"Okay," She agreed breathlessly, looking with wide eyes at the flames.

"Good. Then let's get going." Ducking his head outside the door frame, he groaned. Whilst his uniform would protect him from most of the heat, at least for the time being, he knew there was no way Laura could get past it. His watch lit up again, flashing cheerfully. Alan was calling him.

"Not now Alan, alright?"

"But Johnny-" He cut off his younger sibling, and turned back to Laura.

"Slight change of plan. Do you mind being carried?"

"Um...okay?" She guessed as he lifted her up and headed back out into the corridor. He could at least attempt to protect from the worst of the fire.

* * *

_**Please review!** _

_**Kat x**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**Battery's running low on my laptop :( Thanks for the favourite and follow action guys! Much appreciated, as always.**_

* * *

"Hey, we're picking up on a large metal vessel in the surrounding areas, sir." Dan nodded to his colleague. The young officer was standing in the doorway, a slight frown crossing his face as he watched Dan talking with the International Rescue guys. He hated it when they acted their rank, it made him feel old. Who called people sir, anyway? It sounded so ancient!

"Try calling their radio then." He called back across the room.

"That's just it, we have, but there's no reply. Just a continuing outgoing message, that's been recorded on it and set to play whenever the sub's contacted."

"Really? You'd have to have a pretty good knowledge of submarines to be able to pull that one off." Virgil commented, leaning forwards to examine the maps again and then realising the meaning of what he'd just said. Glancing up, he frowned as Scott grinned at him. "Oh come on, you don't think?"

"Why not? Gordon knows a hell of a lot about subs."

"Yeah, okay, I'll give you that one, but you'd need to know how to work the electrics."

"So?"

"So we both know that Gords can't even change a light bulb without blowing something up. He's as bad as Alan."

"I seem to remember you setting fire to the school when we were kids, so you can't exactly say that. And Alan can hot-wire a car, Gordon can't." Automatically defending his brothers, Scott shrugged as Virgil gave him a _'seriously?'_ look.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Virgil muttered, sitting back in his chair with his arms folded, flicking one of the holographs to zoom in.

"Nothing I guess." Scott sighed. "Damn it, we haven't found anything!"

"We will." Dan told him and then turned back to his colleague. "Any idea when the message was recorded? No," he added as the woman started to speak. "Hang on, let's hear it first."

"Of course." She leant forwards, swiping her finger across the electronic screen and placing one finger on the scanner. The green light flashed, satisfied it was her before allowing the audio to be brought up. The green audio waves appeared on the screen and then the terrified voice could be heard, echoing round the room.

"Come in control. Someone? Anyone? We're in real trouble. Help? I...I'm the last one left. Please! This is Aqua Marine II! Please! I..." The voice was cut off sharply and then with a harsh sound, like metal against metal, so did the transmission.

"Well I think we've decided it's not Gordon. I can't work out if I'm happy he wasn't in that situation or disappointed we haven't found him." Scott muttered, leaning back in his chair. "But when was that called in, anyway?"

"We don't know yet," The woman announced, anticipating Dan's next question. "Sir," She added hurriedly, not wanting to lose her job, but not seeing her employer roll his eyes behind her back.

"I think I do." Virgil told him, reaching forward to activate the touch-screen with a questioning look for permission at her. She nodded, and he frowned, monitoring the audio waves leap up and down on the screen. "The frequency is only using between this volume and here." He reached out on the screen, unaware of his older brother watching him in amazement.

"Since when did you get so much like John with the creepy technology skills?" He asked and Virgil shrugged.

"No big deal, but it does come in handy." He swiped left on the screen, and the database records for monitoring frequencies from the years before appeared. Tapping right, he copied the information into the search screen and then spotted the file he was looking for. "Compare this to the information we have on that missing research vessel that disappeared in the area."

"The frequencies on the radios are the same," Scott commented. "How does this even help us though..oh." Realisation dawned and he stared at him. "You think that Aqua Marine II is the same sub?"

"I know it is. The radios made around that time each had their own identical frequency limits. Some had higher limits for the transmissions than others...this makes sense, right?"

"To be honest, my other colleague Oscar would understand it more than I do, but keep going." Dan admitted, watching closely, his interest clear in his features.

"Alright. So if the two subs are the same, and this sub apparently has the automatic docking features which Thunderbird 4 could use, and suddenly its turned up after all these year, then what if Gordon boarded it?"

"He'd have got in contact," Scott pointed out immediately and Virgil shook his head.

"Not necessarily. What if the Control Room was locked? And anyway, we don't know what happened to cause that other guy to make that mayday call."

"Could it have been hijacked?" Scott asked.

"Why would they want a research submarine?" Virgil wondered aloud, sitting back down in his chair again.

"That chemical could have been sold on the black market, earning thousands. It would be worthwhile." Dan told him, reaching for the specs of the missing research sub, and flicking through them, skimming over the diagrams.

"But the sub never turned up," Scott reminded him and Dan frowned.

"What was the chemical they found again?"

"Some sort of liquid I believe, at least according to the reports they sent in to us when it went missing. It burns anything creating power and heat when it gets warm, or too cold. Very useful in the poorer countries."

"If that somehow got spilt or if they threatened the hijacker with it, then the entire plan could have gone wrong, with them ending up dead."

"Oh. Well that's cheerful." Virgil muttered sarcastically, before leaping up. "Hang on a sec! That hijacker had to have had a way to get to the research vessel."

"Didn't you tell us that there was another supposed ghost sub in the area? What if those rumours are true and that someone does have a submarine for their own personal uses?" Scott asked Dan, who frowned.

"Well, yes." The man admitted. "But how do we find it? The scanners wouldn't pick up on anything that had shielding to sensors."

"But you do have magnetic scanners?" Scott commented with a glance at his younger brother. Virgil realised what he was getting at and grinned.

"Yes, we have those," Dan confirmed.

"And we have our equipment. Well, a few of the small things. All we need to do is update it!" Virgil told him.

"Then let's get going."

* * *

There was a ladder, but there was no way to reach it. That was the first thing that John realised as they reached the roof, the fire escape door slamming shut behind them. He was out of time and out of options as far as the equipment he had with him was concerned. Without the specialised tech that the Firefly had, then he had no more plans, and quite frankly, no more options full stop.

"Now what?" Laura coughed, shielding her face from the smoke that rose up from the building, surrounding them like they were in some sort of circus ring. The heat was beginning to go into the Scarlet Zone on his watch and deciding that knowing the approximate time of what was currently his imminent death wasn't going to help anyone, John flicked the watch off. It was just a distraction now.

"Um..." How do you say International Rescue has failed? He wondered as she stared at him with wide eyes shining with fear. "I'm sorry," He whispered as she started coughing again. The fire was getting too hot, he thought inwardly. The injury he hadn't realised he'd received from earlier was throbbing painfully and he closed his eyes.

Damn, damn, damn, damn...ow...ow...

"John!"

Thunderbird 3 rose into the air, the red and orange paintwork glimmering as the rocket hovered over the flames. The heat shielding on the Thunderbird that was used to flying near the sun meant that this was a piece of cake for Alan, an easy rescue.

"Take Laura first," He muttered, still knelt down from when the heat combined with the injury was really beginning to become a bit too much.

"I already have," The younger blond shot back, regarding him in a cross between worry and amusement.

Huh? When did that happen? John shrugged, not really with it.

"Cool."

"Come on, we have to get out of here," Alan hissed into his ear, attempting to get him to his feet.

"Okay, okay, ow!" Wait, hang on a second, had his younger sibling just slapped him? What the-?

"Sorry," Alan told him sympathetically, the light from the flames reflecting off his uniform. "But you weren't exactly focussed." The tone of his voice implied how worried he actually was, and John frowned.

Poor kid, he's still too young to be dealing with having to rescue his older brother's lives the entire time. Yeah, I'll have to do something about that...

Grabbing the safety line from Thunderbird 3, he swung himself up and into the cabin, resting his palm against the cool floor.

"Johnny?" Alan was looking at him worriedly, crouched on the floor next to him.

"I'm fine, just gimme a moment kiddo. In the meantime, why don't we get this fire put out?"

Alan grinned. "On route to Thunderbird 2 Space-Case!"

"Watch your tongue!" He growled back teasingly, grinning as Alan smirked back at him. Laura was watching incredulously.

"Whatever you say."

So the kid might annoy him occasionally, but John wouldn't exchange him for the world...

* * *

"Hey, this is Thunderbird 3 to Firefly. Reporting that there are no more traces of the fire from the air. Anything where you are?" The radio flickered into life on the automatic link to the Firefly, which John had picked up from the pod in Thunderbird 2. Technically, he should have taken it in the first place, but he hadn't had chance to think straight.

"No fire down here either Alan, I'm heading back to Thunderbird 2. Then we need to ask Laura exactly what happened, got it? No running off on a half formed plan."

"As if!" Alan grinned at him through the vid-link and then cut the connection, slowly lowering his Thunderbird to the ground. "Three, two, one, and...contact!" Leaping to his feet and almost falling out of the rocket in his haste to get to his older brother, he glanced over at Thunderbird 1. No doubt the world was going to have a field day when the media discovered that nearly the entire fleet of International Rescue was here. Great. Hopefully Dad already had that covered. Natasha would have been able to deal with the press and media front without even having to lift a finger.

"Hey kiddo. Good job," John told him, after dropping off the Firefly in the pod and emerging out into the bright sunlight. He wished he'd brought sunglasses or something now. The clouds from earlier had disappeared, which was a shame. "Now where's Laura?"

"I left her with the medically trained staff. They said that everyone was told to go to the main town so we could put out the fire, so I left them to it. Have you heard from Dad or Tin-Tin by the way?"

"No," his older sibling admitted, running a hand through soot stained hair. "But the communications keep getting compromised, remember? Brains will no doubt fix it soon, don't worry."

Alan nodded, fighting back a yawn. They'd all been on their feet non stop for twenty-four hours and it was beginning to catch up with him. All he wanted to do was get his brothers back and then sleep non stop for next few hours.

Heading tiredly down to the main buildings, he frowned as something caught his eye in the skies above. The whirring of an engine also made John glance up as a familiar shocking pink car came flying across the sky and gracefully landing smoothly next to the Thunderbirds.

"Well done Parker. An excellent landing."

"Thank you M'lady."

Alan grinned again, dropping the last of the fire-fighting equipment on the ground as the familiar figure stepped gracefully out of the car. "Hi Lady P."

"Alan, John, how are you?" Penelope asked them both, beckoning to Parker who locked the car, shooting a glare at a nearby schoolboy who was watching the new technology installed in the vehicle with interest. The boy sprinted away, giggling with a small crowd of his friends. Parker casually leant against the pink car, shooting them a glare.

"We've been better," John told Penelope quietly as they headed towards the medical shelter. The young English woman listened carefully, keeping close to him to avoid others listening in on the secretive conversation. "And we're three members down. Oh, and our communications are down. Everything's messed up basically."

Penelope frowned, turning to Parker. "Well I think that I've had heard quite enough of this. Parker, organise for my personal communication line to be linked up here immediately so that I may speak to Jeff. Also, would you fetch my perfume? I've breathed in more than enough of this ghastly smoke."

"Yes M'lady," Parker agreed, and Alan nodded, looking down at his watch with a longing look.

"I'll help if you want Parker." What he really meant was could he be one of the first to talk to his father when the communications were up. Parker glanced at him, understanding what he meant and then nodded.

"So, what information do we have on the entire situation?" Penelope asked John the moment Alan and Parker were out of earshot. Sighing as the astronaut stared at her in astonishment, she added: "I'm your London Agent John, I think I know what I am doing."

"Right, got it. I knew that." He agreed hastily, before turning his attention to the woman being checked over by medics. "I don't actually know that much, but I know someone who will."

"Who?"

He motioned to Laura who looked up as they approached her. "I rescued her, but I think I remember her from being on the team searching for Gordon. Anyway, someone wanted her dead, which tells me that she knows something important."

"Of course." Penelope agreed. Stepping carefully past the medics, she sat down next to Laura. "Laura, I'm Penelope, and I was wondering if you could tell me what happened to cause you to be trapped in a room in the hotel earlier?"

Laura frowned at her. "I'm sorry, but it's classified information. I can't tell you - oh. You're with International Rescue?" She caught sight of John standing behind them, leaning against the doorframe.

"She's with me, you can tell her Laura, don't worry." John told her, sitting down on the steps and watching the medics who milled around cautiously, like little beetles.

"Alright then. Do you have a map?" She asked, glancing around as John brought up a hologram of the world on his watch and zoomed in on the area around Bermuda with one finger.

"Will this do?" He asked and she laughed, nodding, before her expression turned serious again.

"Can you make sure absolutely no one is listening in to what I'm saying?"

"Already done," Penelope told her, snapping her fingers and touching a hand to her earpiece. "Parker? Make sure there is no one within hearing distance or able to see us? Thank you."

Laura frowned again before nodding. "Right, thank you. I've already nearly been murdered once today. I don't really wish to repeat the experience."

"So...what's going on?" John asked her, silently hinting for her to carry on. He shifted closer to the pair to avoid Laura having to raise her voice.

"A couple of years ago, there was a tsunami around this area. The devastation was tremendous and International Rescue, you guys, also received a call around five minutes later from a small boat near where the tsunami struck. There were two parents, a son and a daughter on board.

"The call was received five minutes after it was actually sent due to radio interference. When you did receive it, the tsunami had already struck the mainland, and had washed over Bermuda. You had to choose between saving that one family, or saving many families. Of course, you'd already set off for here when you heard about the earthquake which consequently caused the tsunami, so you went to rescue the family only to have to turn back and save the masses from the water. When you got back, the rescue services had got to the scene of the family's rescue call. The parents and daughter were drowned and the son's body was never recovered. We assumed he was got by the sharks.

"He wasn't eaten by the sharks, instead he was picked up by a small submarine that was privately owned. He had a serious head injury which caused brain damage so he doesn't remember anything from before, apart from brief flashes of light according to our medical team who are experts on this particular field. He killed the crew of the sub, but as it was privately owned, no one actually noticed it missing. The crew's friends and family reported them missing of course, but the conclusion? There was none. Missing at sea. This is part of the Bermuda Triangle, after all.

"The son received a call from someone. It turns out there was a second sister on the boat with them that day who survived. She's an assassin, wanted for murder across the globe and many other crimes, but she's a ghost. She also wants to get revenge from IR, so she, and her companions who want money, figure out that to build the Thunderbirds, you'd need money. So what if they hold one of your team members at ransom, get the money but then take revenge - kill them. She also has a research sub. From the day the brother head from her, she's been telling him to kill anyone who gets near this sub. We believe she wants to sell it on the black market."

"This brother has a sub, so he targeted the ship that you went to go and rescue. Your Thunderbird and colleague go into the water and then he targets them. According to the information you gave us, you already had problems with that Thunderbird that day, so you assumed that was why. Then they both disappeared, because of the advanced technology the sister had available to her and had given to the brother to use from his sub.

"The brother boards the sub, and somehow knocks out your pilot, or something, but then somehow your pilot gets back control and boards the missing research vessel that went missing when bringing back a new chemical a while ago.

"If this chemical heats up, it will set fire and burn through anything. So the brother would have kept it cold. Meanwhile, before they can set up a ransom, the sister meets with a problem - you fly out to try and help rescue your pilot. So she hacks into your systems and cuts out your communications."

"What?" Alan gasped, sitting down beside John, his eyes wide with shock. Parker was just about managing to create the backups for the comms. Laura paused, taking a sip from the water bottle she'd been given before continuing.

"With you supposedly out of the way, she contacts the brother again. This research sub had originally gone missing because everyone was killed by breathing in too much of the chemical - it was kept in the wrong type of container - an innocent mistake that cost them all their lives. So it was just your pilot and the brother on the sub."

"The brother assumes that you have received the ransom by now, so he has to kill your pilot off. He has several ways to do this - simply kill him by shooting him or by heating up the sub so that it burns and explodes, so he dies as well, or he could escape first before it explodes in his 'new sub' aka the Thunderbird.

"Then he receives call from the sister asking him to get information of where the other Thunderbirds are - where your base is - so that they can kill you guys as well. So that's the last he hears from his sister and that's the last we've heard of him and your pilot.

"Meanwhile the sister has struck a problem - she's destroyed your communications, but hey, now how she meant to send the ransom? Then she learns of the rescue sub mission - well it's obvious they'll be able to find a massive vessel such as the Research Sub now it's in shallower waters. Now her colleagues realise that someone's discovered everything - my colleague, Sam. He's missing now, but before he managed to send everything through on our private system to my computer and my laptop. My computer 'mysteriously' contracted a virus, but I read everything on the laptop. They discovered I knew and locked me in the room, in an attempt to kill me. Boom, suddenly the hotel is on fire, and oh what a shame, I'm going to die. The plan goes wrong, and John arrives to save me. They realised this, which is why they tried to kill you as well...sorry about that, John by the way, but we escaped.

"Note one thing - the sister hasn't appeared since the rescue sub was launched. Your other colleague was becoming too much trouble so she organises for him to be abducted and killed. Fortunately for us he escapes. Unfortunately, he somehow ends up on the rescue sub with your other colleague, so the sister is sent on board to kill everyone and then come back and kill the rest of you here. It's an easier plan for them - you've unwittingly helped them."

Laura glanced at John before reaching for the water bottle again. Her voice was becoming increasingly rough as she had still not totally recovered from the smoke inhalation.

"Wait, who got abducted?" Alan asked in confusion, casting a questioning glance at John and Penelope.

"The guy who flies the silver and red Thunderbird." Laura continued.

"But I flew Thunderbird 1 here?" John asked in confusion. "And I didn't get abducted."

"The other guy who was in the Thunderbird after you arrived. They wanted him out of the way." Laura explained.

"They wanted Scott," Alan realised aloud, kicking at a stone and watching the small cloud of dust absent mindly.

"That can't be right," John muttered, leaning forwards and frowning. "For him to escape and end up on the rescue sub by _accident_ \- besides, Scott gave me the sleeping drug before heading straight down to the sub."

"Then who did they abduct...wait a sec..." Alan stared at John as realisation sunk in. "So Virgil got mistaken for Scott?"

"Yes. And now we have to warn them about that assassin being in the submarine."

"How exactly are you planning to do that? You said yourself that there's no way to find the sub on the scanners or make contact." Alan pointed out.

"Okay, yes, but...wait a sec, you didn't even know about that!"

"I listened in," Alan admitted, looking suitably guilty as he frowned down at the ground.

"So, what's the plan?" Laura asked. John looked over his shoulder at the wrecked remains of the hotel and then frowned, spotting the main town hall complex where the investigation had been based.

"Are any of your systems here still working?"

"Yes," she told him, smiling for first time since Sam had disappeared. She switched on the holograph projector on her mobile, and monitoring the signal to their American base.

"Good. If I can hack into their systems then I can turn of the sensors that are making them invisible to us and anyone else."

"How are you planning to get past their security systems? They have one of the most advanced in the world!" Alan pointed out.

"Alan, I invented their security systems." John reminded him, with a grin as realisation dawned on his younger brother.

"Oh." Alan nodded, grinning. "Then let's go."

A few startled medics and residents glanced up as what remained of the IR team started sprinting towards FAB1 and the large complex, with Laura close behind them.

* * *

_**What is with these crazily long chapters I'm writing? Remember how short the first five chapters of Revenge were?! *sobs quietly* Ive come so far. Just kidding. I'm still a hopeless writer, but your reviews make my day.**_

_**Kat x**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Just remembering something I should probably have mentioned in the beginning - this is a mixture of TAG 2015, as well as part movie-verse and original tv-verse. And because of EOS in TAG, the muse whispers, 'What if they all had their own, personal AI's?' So sorry for the weird names - I literally just mixed suggestions on blogs about AI names and the crazy stuff a certain brother came out with...which is how we ended up with the names.**_

_**They make no sense. Don't try to understand them. Just go with it. Thanks ;)**_

* * *

"Excuse me, but you're wanted in the main control room immediately." The robotic voice chimed through the alert system in Scott's cabin and Virgil practically fell off his bed as he jumped, not expecting to suddenly hear a voice by his ear. He was used to hearing his AI, Solaris, but not the bored tones of the automatic alert AI that the sub used.

"Virg, come on." Scott told him, yanking his younger sibling to his feet, and heading out of the cabin where they'd been searching through maps and radio frequencies of similar submarines.

"Alright, alright," Virgil grumbled before grinning as he realised what the summoning could possibly mean. "Hey, do you reckon they've managed to find the Research Sub using the updated magnetic scanners?"

"Probably. Oh man, the look on Dan's face when he realised that you'd come up with something so obvious that he should have come up with days ago...that was hilarious." Scott hid a smirk by looking over his shoulder.

"Uh-huh. Just scan for metal using magnetic scanners and hey, you've found another submarine and wait, what the actual f- ow!" He yelped as Scott literally dragged him back into a storage room with a signal to stay absolutely silent and still.

A shadowy figure crept out of the room opposite, the man who'd been in there lying unconscious on the floor. Stepping out into the light, she pulled back the hood of her jumper, shaking out her long dark hair and tossing her head, confidentially stepping forwards and stalking down the corridor without a sound, silent and deadly.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott hissed at Virgil who shrugged, staring back at him with wide eyes. He motioned back to the woman with a frown.

"I don't know! But she's the woman who I think I know." He glared at the figure in frustration trying to recall her face from some faded memory. "Dammit, why can't I remember where I know her from?"

"That's not the problem right now," Scott muttered, glancing out of their shadowy hiding place as the woman brought something crashing down upon one of the crew. The man turned, groaning, and attempted to hit her back, and then collapsed on the floor as she leaned over him with something sharp. She stood up, smiling with deep shadows cast across her face as she stepped delicately over the limp figure on the ground.

"No!" Virgil began to yell, about to jump out of their hiding place when Scott shoved a hand over his mouth, muting him and keeping him hidden. Glaring furiously back at his older brother, Virgil tried to figure out what the woman was doing. Knocking the guy out?

Everything suddenly went dark and then after five minutes, Scott removed his hand from where he'd stopped his younger brother from seeing what was going on.

"She's gone," Scott told him quietly, looking rather shocked.

"Why the hell did you stop me from seeing what she was doing to that guy- holy crap! He's dead! She killed him!" Virgil stumbled backwards, colliding with the wall.

"I wasn't going to let you see that," Scott muttered, watching his brother with a worried frown.

"I've seen people die out on rescue." Virgil pointed out, standing upright again and trying not look at the corpse lying across the corridor. It was an unreal, and sickening sight and he turned his back on it.

"You weren't in the Air Force Virg, you haven't seen people die the way she killed him, alright? I wasn't going to let you, as my younger brother, see that." Scott was being deadly serious, watching the corridor for any movement and keeping his voice quiet.

"I..." Realising it was just Scott being overprotective as usual, and there was something that calmed him by knowing the familiar over protective brother was back in action, Virgil just nodded and then followed Scott out into the hallway, checking on the first man.

"She's killing all of the crew." He reported and Scott's expression darkened.

"She wants the sub," he realised aloud. Virgil stared at him, not fully comprehending at first.

"Why?" He repeated, standing up right from checking the man's pulse, having to be certain he was dead before getting seriously worried.

"She must be working with whoever tried to kill you," Scott muttered and cursed. "Come on, we have to warn Dan."

"She's heading for the Main Control room!" Virgil called after Scott as his brother sprinted off down the corridor. Tripping over something, Virgil went crashing down the stairs and landed at the feet of a tall and rich woman. The black jumper was gone to reveal a red jumpsuit and black heeled boots. Several knives, guns and other weapons lined her belt.

"Good afternoon. I am the Assassin." She whispered to him with a sardonic grin on her face. "But you may call me death." Right. Well that was not a good sign. It sounded more like she was quoting a James Bond movie than threatening him.

Years of having to avoid pranks such as buckets falling from the tops of doors, tripwires, spiders in '2's hanger, a waiting brother behind a door, or something going wrong out on rescue meant that Virgil could move quickly when he wanted to. What he hadn't counted on was that the woman in front of him was one of the most highly skilled killers in the entire world, working for some of the most influential people in the world. She had seen many things and she cared for no one. The stories she could tell could shock some of the coldest of hearts.

"Come now, I must kill you." She whispered, twirling a knife between her fingers.

"My friend won't allow that!" Virgil yelled back at her, attempting to reach the stairs and stopping, frozen on the spot as he spotted Dan unconscious on the floor, slumped behind the holographic map imaging. Dropping to his knees, he checked the man's pulse, groaning as he discovered it was weak and unsteady. Spinning on the spot, he turned back to the Assassin. "What have you done to him?" He demanded to know, before pain shot up his side.

"I'm really not sorry." She spoke clearly, leaning down to whisper. "You have been an absolute pest from the moment you arrived on Bermuda. Still, a hell of a lot easier to kill off than your older brother will be."

"How the hell do you know he's my brother?"

"Oh, my friend, who's in a spot of bother himself come to think of it, courtesy of your other younger sibling, has a watch sending through a live feed. He's about to kill your younger brother, and I shall watch and laugh. Then your older brother may watch as I kill you." She looked vaguely amused at the thought, brushing away strands of black hair which framed her face. The knife in her hand glinted in the spotlights.

"You're wrong. He's long gone."

"Really?" She chucked. "You should have more faith in him." She turned to face a doorway Virgil hadn't noticed, and he froze as he felt the cold edge of a knife press against his neck. "You can come out now Scott."

"Leave him alone." Scott stepped out from the shadows, his gaze never leaving the knife.

"You won't kill me. One of us has to die though. If you kill me, then you won't find out what's happened to your other brother, on that sub."

"Let him go." Scott told her slowly, meeting Virgil's eyes.

"You know where Gordon is?" Virgil asked, not quite able to keep the shocked tone out of his voice. Part of him was up for a fight and then his instincts were yelling at him to wait for the distraction.

"Shut up!" She snapped, pressing the knife harder and keeping his eyes on Scott, who took another step closer.

_Okaaay_, probably a good idea to do as she says, Virgil thought to himself, watching as Scott tried to think of a way to get the upper hand.

"Get the hell out of here!" He yelled at Scott, when an alarm sounded and then he spotted the results of the magnetic scan on the desk.

"I thought I told you to shut up!"

Shoving her off, and wincing as whatever she'd done to his ribs made pain shoot up his side again, Virgil leapt for the desk, and grabbed the results. Realising in horror what was about to happen, he forgot about the Assassin until someone collapsed on the ground.

Oh crap. He thought instantly. I should have figured she'd do that.

"Scott!" He shouted, dropping the results and turning to face the Assassin.

"So...now what? How shall I kill you, hmm?" Her eyes glinted with cold anger. "Like you killed my family?"

"I never meant for that to happen," he yelled back, realising where he knew her from.

_'We've got from here. No one survived I'm afraid,' The rescue operative of the search and rescue team told him quietly as he called them from the radio on Thunderbird 2. Leaning forwards, he frowned as he spotted a pale face sinking under the water, a girl, before an urgent call hailed him from the radio._

_'Thunderbird 2 from Thunderbird 5, come in please. One's having a spot of trouble right now...'_

_'If a spot of trouble is how you say accidentally landing his Thunderbird in top of unstable ground!' A voice chimed in._

_'Oh shut up Alan. Please. I feel like you've crashed '3 on top of me right now.' Scott muttered through the radio link._

_Virgil stared back at where the face was, blinking as he thought he spotted the girl wave, her long dark hair soaked with the water._

_'I will not forget this!' She shrieked up at him, her voice all but lost in the wind, only the highly adapted sound waves on Thunderbird 2 picking up her threat as Virgil closed his eyes, knowing that his brothers always came first, and headed back to Bermuda._

"That was you!" Virgil realised aloud, also figuring he was in deep trouble as she dug in the knife, drawing blood. A quick glance across at Scott revealed his older sibling was regaining consciousness, and fast.

"Of course it was me. And now you will die!" She leaned forwards with some sort of gadget in her hand, smiling at him sweetly, but with the coldness in her brown eyes clear to see as she pressed the object against his wrist.

"Let him go!" She was dragged away as Scott finally regained consciousness, wrapping an arm round her shoulders and forcefully yanking her back.

"Scott!" Virgil yelled. "The Research Sub! We're going to collide!" He glanced back at the scan results, which proved he was right. It was only then that he fully recognised what the object the Assassin had was, and what she'd done to him.

"What?" Scott stared back at him in horror.

"Move!" Virgil yelled at Scott. Scott frowned and spun round as the Assassin let out a chilling laugh, and then raked the knife down.

"No!" Virgil threw a punch in the basic direction of the killer and they were all sent skidding across the floor. The Assassin leapt to her feet, throwing herself into the small submarine she used to get to the Rescue Sub. A second later the hum of the engines started, and she was zooming away to safety.

"Virgil?" Scott whispered as the lights went out as the Research Sub came crashing into their sub, severing electrics. "I'm sorry."

"None of this is your fault," Virgil promised him. "Scooter, listen to me. It's not your fault."

"Come on, there has to be a way to get you out of here." Scott muttered.

"Scotty."

Scott froze at the familiar childhood nickname. "Virgil...what's wrong?"

"I-" He began to tell his brother what the Assassin had done, meeting his older sibling's concerned gaze when suddenly everything exploded as the Research Sub crashed into them and then exploded, breaking the Rescue Sub up as well.

The water came crashing down and he struggled to breathe as everything began to get extremely cold and darkness clawed at his vision. The sparks of dying lights and tiny pieces of fragments of metal and flames and toxic chemicals were everywhere and he fixed his gaze on the spiralling lights that slowly became no more as he sunk down and accepted the darkness.

* * *

It had turned out whoever had locked Laura into her hotel room, and left her there to die had been clever enough to remember the backup networks in the investigations complex. The entire place was wrecked and the systems had been hacked, and were left in shreds of their former glory.

In the end, John had taken up Penelope on her offer of using FAB1's inbuilt systems on Penny's personal servers. It had more of a chance of remaining undiscovered anyway.

"Johnny-"

"Al, if you're going to ask me am I into their network yet, then just don't, got it?" John told him through gritted teeth as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "Come on, come on, I'm nearly there..."

"John, there's something going on with our communications again. I'm getting some weird coded messages through from some Agent in South Mexico who I've never heard before," Alan finally told his brother, sick of having to wait to tell him when it was genuinely something important.

"What? What number?" John asked him distractedly, trying to get past a security code which kept rewriting itself.

"Agent No.78," Alan replied, bringing up the message on his watch. "What d'you think?"

"We don't have Agent No.78 in South Mexico. He's based in China." John muttered in confusion before cursing as realisation dawned. "Dammit! She's trying to hack into our security network as well as our communications. Shut down all of the equipment and log out of our system!"

"FAB. What about Penny?" Alan glanced over to where the young woman was helping Laura and a few other people who had been caught up in the hotel disaster. Parker was watching, ready to spring to her defence if anything untoward happened.

"What about her?" John was desperately trying to back out of the systems and was finding it even harder than attempting to enter them in the first place.

"FAB1 communication circuits run on our systems, that's how the advanced ones work - Brains designed them to link up with ours." Alan reminded him, kneeling down to examine the computer screen next to his brother.

"What the- oh shit. Alan, take over here, when the password box comes up you need to do the basic hacking skills. God knows you know how to do that, you've done it with Scott's computer and changed his screensaver enough times."

"What about you?" Alan asked him, watching as John got to his feet, grabbing his watch from the side and headed towards the medical centre, signalling to Parker.

"They know who Penny is, and she's their next target!"

"How do you know?"

"Just trust me!" John yelled back.

"Johnny, I can't do this!" Alan called after him in desperation as he stared back at the complex patterns on the screen in front of him. The bright flashing lights were giving him a headache and combined with emotional exhaustion as well as pure tiredness, everything was beginning to get too much. His brother turned, heading back to him for a second.

"Alan, I believe you can do this, okay? Do this for Gordon, and for Scott and for Virgil." John told him in a quiet voice, ruffling the younger blond's hair before jogging over to Parker, where they proceeded to check over FAB1's systems.

"Right." Alan spoke aloud, narrowing his eyes at the computer screen as pure determination mixed with typical Tracy stubbornness kicked in and he leant forwards in the seat. John was right - he could do this! Of course he could. He hoped so, anyway.

The password box came up and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The moment he started he would only have five seconds to hack in and gain control before the automatic security back up controls realised what would happen. Suddenly the screen flashed white, and then black and then a small box came up on the screen.

**_Nice try Tracy, but I am death. You cannot escape me._**

Alan stared at the small words, shock beginning to set in. Oh God, had he failed? We're his brothers going to die because he wasn't good enough? Was-

"Hey kiddo, I'm here, don't worry, everything's okay..." Suddenly his brother was there, shutting the computer down and watching in relief as the screens went dark, allowing the terrifying message to disappear into oblivion.

"Johnny! I failed!" He whispered in a quiet sob. "And now they're going to die!"

"Oh Alan," John murmured. "There is no way in hell you failed." He drew the younger Tracy into a hug, and closed his eyes, resting his chin on top of the younger Tracy's head.

"There's still time, so what are we waiting for?" Not for the first time, John found himself unbelievably glad that Penelope was part of the team. Again and again she would take control and help them out of a bad situation that seemed hopeless, and this was what she was doing now. He glanced up at her, still hugging Alan, and blue eyes met blue eyes, and he realised in an instant that Penelope was just as worried as him.

"You're right." He muttered, still keeping an arm round Alan's shoulders as he glanced out at the ocean when a massive explosion sent water cascading into the air, debris falling back into the sea mixed with God knows what...

John automatically drew Alan back into the hug to prevent him from seeing everything, but it was a second too late as the teenager caught sight of the ocean.

"No!" Alan yelled, leaping to his feet. "No! John, do something!" He stared at his older brother, realising that John was staring out at the sea in shock, all but shaking.

"That was the Rescue Submarine, wasn't it?" Penelope asked in a very small voice, blinking back tears. Parker gave a tiny nod of confirmation and Penelope stared at him.

"Johnny, please! You have to do something! Anything!" John snapped out of the trance he was in, attempting to stop thinking back over every single memory of his brothers that he had, and hugging Alan again.

Oh God, if there really was nothing that could be done...then Alan was the only brother he had...

"John..." The teenager's voice trailed off into a sob and John glared at the computer.

"Dammit! I'm not going to let this happen!" He leapt to his feet. "Alan, stay with Penny!"

"But..." Alan began to protest, turning red rimmed eyes to look pleadingly at his older sibling.

"No buts. I need you here, ready with Thunderbird 1 as backup."

"What are you even planning?" Alan looked at him, still unable to comprehend what was happening and not quite capable of coming up with a plan. For that side of things, neither was Penelope, who only just realised that Parker was watching her in deep concern. She stood up straight, regaining her composure. Several tourists had stopped and were staring.

John frowned. "I'm not sure yet kiddo." He glanced over at the massive green Thunderbird. "Actually, scrap that, I think I do have a plan. Oh, and Allie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you."

* * *

_**Okay. *holds up hands* You know what - that was all the muse's fault. I have got no control over the rabid plot bunnies anymore.**_

_**Kat x**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Getting closer to an actual new chapter that isn't just replacing the one that was here before. Getting closer...**_

* * *

The darkness was swirling around him. Somewhere he was dimly aware that he should be swimming, trying to reach the light, but everything hurt. The final dying sparks in the debris that he was trapped amongst where fading like the hope he'd cling to that he was going to get out of this - preferably alive.

He was running out of time fast, as he tried to drag some of the heavy metal away from him. There was something else in the water, yellow, but familiar. He knew it like the back of his hand.

Ironic really...he was going to end up dying with something that could, with some repair work, save him. It was getting cold as well - he was sure that wasn't good. Damn, he was freezing. He couldn't think straight.

_'Come on, you have to get out of this.'_ He thought to himself and blinked, the water trapping him._ 'Okay, just don't panic, then you'll need to breathe even sooner. Oh damn, help me! Anyone? Well obviously not, I'm at the bottom of the ocean...'_

"Come on, swim towards the light..." The voice was familiar, like from a faded happy memory...or from a video of their childhood. Technically, this wasn't possible. He shouldn't even have survived the initial explosion, God knows how he had, but now he was hearing her voice.

_'Mum, I can't. I'm trapped, and no one can help me.'_ He thought desperately, landing one last kick at the metal for the sharp pain in his chest made it obvious he was going to have to breathe.

He had to breathe. Clenching his jaw as he automatically told himself not to breathe, he set his now blurring vision on the yellow object spiralling down in front of him. The pain in his chest was getting worse...

Thunderbird 4. That was the name of the yellow thing and ow, ow, ow, yep he had to breathe...

The water was all around him and then the darkness was as well. Just something from a dim memory clamped down on the metal around him, dragging both it, and him towards the light, but he was still surrounded by the water, and it was still too dark.

"Gordon. Gordon! Come on goddamn it, I didn't just save your life for you to die on me...please, kiddo, just breathe..."

_Huh? Don't you get it? It hurts to breathe, and the darkness is quite comfortable..._

He knew the voice. John.

Wait, was his brother upset about something? Wonder what that could be...

"Gordy!"

_Whoa, John, stop panicking. Seriously dude, chill out...I'm just gonna relax here for a bit ya know?_

That was weird, he had never actually heard his brother panic before. Oh well.

_'I guess I could give breathing a shot.'_

"Come on, your brothers need you.."

_Wait, what the-_

"Mum?" He asked incredulously. His vision began to swim into focus again.

* * *

"Object co-ordinates locked, firing safety line." Solaris confirmed, the AI bringing up the image on the screens and control panel.

"Thank you," John muttered to the electronic voice. The green light flashed up on the controls, and he reached forwards. Okay, so he had only done this on simulators, but what could be so hard? His _younger_ brother did it all the time!

Okay, so this was harder. It had been easy to rescue Gordon, as he'd been trapped amongst debris. Just lift out the debris, and then pull it to the surface, thus rescuing his brother from drowning.

And then getting him to breathe, and jeez, he didn't think he'd ever felt so scared in his life before. It had seemed like his brother was dead, no wonder he'd got so emotional. And yes, so he had been panicking. Panicking big time, because he couldn't lose him at the last hurdle.

"Johnny?" A weak voice called out to him. "What's happening?"

"Nothing. Just rescuing some other, uh, very familiar people."

"Why are you flying Thunderbird 2?" He didn't reply and Gordon blinked, frowning as he tried to put two and two together. "Wait, John, where's Virg?" Damn the kid was smart. He may have got C's in maths but in real life situations he was as good as John when it came to figuring stuff out.

"Um..." John gripped the controls tighter, despite Solaris warning him that he needed to focus, trying to block out the thoughts of things that could go wrong right this second out of his head. "Okay, sorry Gordy, but you're going to feel pretty sick in a few seconds."

"Hmm?" Gordon was still pretty out of it, something which was probably a good thing in reality.

"You hate roller coasters," John whispered as a way of explanation before slamming his hand down on the other controls, and sending Thunderbird 2 plummeting to the churning seas below and activating the VTOL's just in time.

"Right, let's get you guys outta there." Swiping forwards, he let the scanner skip over his finger prints before bringing up the heat sensors. Weird, where were his brothers? Well there was one heat spot being brought up on the screen in front of him. Solaris drew his attention to it by using a holographic image.

A flashing yellow light brought his attention back to the control panel in front of him. Right, brothers first, then he'd get back Thunderbird 4 for Gordon. Which he would do, because he owed his brother at least that much over the years.

"Targets locked, and we are FAB." Focussing entirely on the rescue in front of him, he hoped desperately that Gordon was still alright. He hadn't had chance to check his brother for injuries yet.

"And three, two, one, contact! Yes! What the-?" John jumped as the alert sounded. "Solaris, what's going on?"

"Close proximity warning!" The AI yelled back at him, her voice clear in his ear-piece. The audio-links were still hazy.

"Yes, I can tell that," he muttered at the warning light as the shape of a small but fast aircraft with a reinforced fuselage appeared on radar. "Oh damn." The aircraft crashed against the Thunderbird, without enough force to cause damage, but enough to knock them off course. The 'targets' that were shown by the heat sensors were slowly fading.

"Hey Thunderbird 2, we thought you could use a little help there!" John glanced out of the window to where the silver Thunderbird was hovering, the pilot alert to start attacking the unknown craft with just a single signal.

"Alan, I thought I asked you to stay behind with Penny?" He called into the radio when the small unidentifiable aircraft came crashing into Thunderbird 2 again and he winced. Oh yes, Virgil was going to kill him. There were long deep gashes in the side of the aircraft. "On the other hand, I think that help might come in handy after all."

"Okay, stand by. Come on, come on, let's get a good shot at you. Three, two, one, contact!" Thunderbird 1 flew closer towards the object before making contact and dragging the smaller aircraft away from the green Thunderbird next to them. "Take that you evil little sucker - this will teach you for messing with my family."

John watched as Alan sent Thunderbird 1 up and above the cloud level before plummeting back down towards the sea, and then doing a series of sharp turns. For once it seemed his younger brother's love of practising manoeuvres that would normally be found on roller coasters that he performed in Thunderbird 3 (much to John, Brains and Jeff's annoyance) were coming in handy. There was a laugh over the radio.

"This is like a video game!" Alan yelled. He was fully in control of the situation. The kid was turning into a great pilot.

"Right, back to business. Where the hell are you guys? Come on..." They were out of time, and deep down he knew it, but in typical Tracy style, he was being stubborn and refusing to give up.

"John, let me have a shot at them? If I can stable them for five more minutes to stop them sinking further, then can you use the magnetic claw to get them out?"

John stared at the vid- link. Sometimes Alan scared him with ideas he came up with, namely because they were good. But he was open to suggestions at the moment, before they were fully out of options.

"Good thinking. What happened to our little friend?"

Alan raised an eyebrow at him. "Um, do you really want to know?"

"Let's just get Scott and Virgil out from that water first." John muttered, allowing Solaris to clear the holographic display. It was just a distraction now.

"Yeah, that's probably a better plan. Okay, activating whatever this weird thing Scott's got Brains to install...nope, I have no clue what it is."

To normal people, it would seem like they were both happy and relaxed as they performed the rescue. To John, it was all too obvious that his youngest brother was really worried...and upset.

"Well the kid better be ready for some serious smothering when we get home," he murmured, grinning at the audio-link.

"Thunderbird 2, I think I have them on my scanners. You are good for rescue attempts." Alan called through, backing off in the silver Thunderbird.

"FAB. Oh great, there always has to be a complication, doesn't there?" John groaned, as Solaris announced the problem, regret obvious in her voice. Hell, she was Virgil's AI, she was probably as worried as John. A bit like EOS had been last New Year after that particular problem.

"What's wrong?" Alan asked him, frowning.

"Thunderbird 2 is deciding to malfunction. I'll go in and try to free them myself. I need you to keep them from sinking, got it?" John decided, swinging around to collect the equipment.

"FAB. Wait, how are you planning to go under water?"

"I'm in Thunderbird 2. I'll borrow one of Gordon's diving equipment."

"Uh, Johnny, you're creepily taller than Gords. How the hell are you-"

"Who says I'm not just going to use the breathing equipment. I don't necessarily need a diving suit."

"Oh great. There are still explosions going on down there, what if you get trapped too? Look, just stop, I'll go down. I've used his diving stuff before, I'm more experienced then you."

"Alan. Look kiddo, I'll be fine. Hey, I've survived nearly being blown up on Thunderbird 5, how's a little bit of water going to harm me?"

"Famous last words. Oh, and let me remind you what happened the last time you took a swim in the ocean? It didn't end well. EOS freaked out big time. So did Scott."

"I'll be fine. By the way, if Gordon regains consciousness, then keep talking to him."

"John..." Alan began and then trailed off, sounding tired.

"Yes?" Maybe it was the quiet acceptance in his sibling's voice that made him stop or maybe it was the fact he sounded...lost. John hated that. It didn't sound right, compared to the usual happy go lucky kid he was used to hearing. The same teenager who used a rope swing off a palm tree above the pool because of dares, and ate the last piece of cake to annoy Scott after rescues.

"Just bring them home. Please. And don't get hurt." There was silence for a few moments. "I can't lose you as well."

* * *

For the first few minutes, all he could hear was ringing in his ears as the sounds of the explosion slowly died away. Closing his eyes, he placed his hands over his ears, desperately wanting to be able to hear again. Being deaf was only a little bit worse than being blind in his mind, although he may as well be blind right now as there was just a dim light slowly filtering down. It was murky in the water which didn't help either.

Removing his hands from his ears, he was relieved to find the ringing could stop and that he could hear again. When the submarines had crashed into each other and then the Research Sub had exploded, he'd been thrown backwards, into one of the reinforced rooms used for prisoners so the explosion had caused the door to shut. It was watertight because of that, so he could breathe, but his air time was running out, and water was beginning pour in as the metal buckled under the pressure of all the water pressing down on it.

Attempting to calm his breathing, he focussed on the small, narrow cracks now spreading out across the walls surrounded him. Considering how freezing the water outside was, it was boiling inside.

Where was Virgil?

_Oh damn._

He needed to get out of here, and fast. Another eerie wailing sound echoed around him as the metal buckled inwards. So if he didn't drown, then he would be crushed, and if those didn't work, then hey, he was going to run out of air in five minutes anyway, so he'd suffocate.

_Oh wow Scott, those are such positive thoughts._

_Okay then, let's try and get out of here. If I take a breath before getting out into that water, then I might be able to reach the surface first._

The water was cold, he thought, wincing as the icy liquid came crashing in faster from the wall, which was beginning to give way. He backed away from the main cracks, and hit the other wall. He now understood how hamster felt when they were put in those little plastic balls.

_Right, go for the middle of the metal wall, it'll be weaker there as it's less reinforced as the hinges and corners. Except I can't punch metal...yeah, I found that out the hard way a couple of years ago...focus. Get out of here._

It turned out he didn't really need to worry about attempting to get out as the wall finally gave way and the water came crashing down on him. Taking a deep breath, he dove straight through the gap and headed for the light, only for another piece of wreckage to come sinking down and crashing into him.

_Oh I hate water. That's it - next time Gordon goes and nearly gets himself killed, I am so not coming to rescue him. Shit, it's **cold**!_

And that was when something else exploded, sending sparks and god knew what else down on him.

**_Seriously_**_? Oh come on._ _Jeez, this is really not my day._

_Annnd_, ah ha, one brother found. Ducking into the wreckage that had his younger sibling trapped, he grabbed part of it, attempting to tug it away, and thus freeing Virgil. He was right when he'd thought it wasn't his day - the metal moved, but came crashing back on him instead, trapping him against one of the metal plates that made up the sub's sides.

Then two wide eyes were staring at him in shock.

_Oh hey Virg. Nice to see you too_. He thought to himself. He was going to have to breathe sooner or later...oh great, so he was going to drown. It was getting darker and colder. He was getting colder, actually, come to think of it. Focus on something, anything other than the cold. Training. Survival training. Hold your breath, bro, we're in for a storm.

It was too cold.

Too dark.

Then something hit the debris they were both trapped in, something metal, something familiar.

"Scott!"

What the hell? John?

Then suddenly he could breathe again.

John watched him worriedly, thankful that he'd brought the extra breathing equipment as it was certainly needed. After he'd caught his breath, and his vision had cleared (much to his relief) he recognised the flashing light in the corner of the breathing mask. Radio link. We're back online?

"John?" He asked, coughing as he attempted to catch his breath. A robotic voice told him to calm down, and wait second. An AI? Yes. His AI. Xeon. Thank God.

"Don't ever scare me like that again!" His brother murmured, frowning at him. "Where's Virgil?"

"Come on. Got a laser cutter?"

"Yep." He was automatically slipping back into Field Commander role, Scott realised, but hey, John didn't seem to mind. It was some form of normality in the mad and freezing hell they'd found themselves in. Everything burnt with the cold temperatures that ate away and your consciousness. Dammit. Xeon?

"Good. Get one of the breathers to Virgil. I'll cut myself outta here. Got it?"

"FAB." John agreed, reaching through the debris with the laser cutter before turning and swimming towards the now unconscious form of his younger brother. Freaking out wasn't going to help anyone, he needed to remember that.

Satisfied that Virgil would be okay for a couple more minutes and that he knew the oxygen he had wasn't going to last forever, Scott switched his attention to the laser cutter. Slicing through the metal easily, the red glow of the laser cutter illuminated the cloudy water and Scott caught sight of someone else nearby.

"John, how's Virg?"

"Okay...ish. We need to get him out of here and fast."

"Guys." Alan's voice sounded through their radios. "You need to hurry up. Thunderbird 1 can't hold you for much longer. You have ten minutes max."

"Well it's a good job we'll only need seven," Scott told him and there was a yell that sounded like 'hell yeah!' in the background.

"I knew you'd be okay." Alan told him, grinning madly. "But you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

"Heeey..." A voice announced quietly and Scott grinned at its owner, trying to figure out how John had got yet another oxygen tank down here?

"Hey yourself kid." He replied back, relief making him dizzy.

"Don't call...me that...makes me feel like Alan. Ow."

"Alright, sorry. You okay?"

"No."

"Why...what's wrong?" John asked him. "Apart from the obvious fact that we're currently trapped underwater and that you've just been in an explosion."

"There's more smaller explosions going on and they're getting closer. We're getting out of here, right now." Scott told his immediate younger brother, glancing back over his shoulder at the wreckage.

"Five minutes." Alan reported.

"Will you please listen to me?" Virgil asked them.

"No." Scott replied, concentrating on cutting through the rest of the debris that had his sibling trapped. The laser cutter wasn't cutting as easily, although he was putting that down to overuse. The proper cutting equipment was back on Tracy Island.

"Who's that?" John asked him suddenly. "Is he dead, or what?"

"Dan. He was in charge. And I have no idea."

"I'm going after him. Get Virg out, I'll meet you on Thunderbird 2. Gordon's already the, but I don't know if he's hurt or not."

"John! I'm ordering you not to go after him!"

"I never listen," his brother shot back with a grin before plunging into the icy depths.

"Damn him, why's he have to be so stubborn the entire time?"

"Yeah, must run in the family, his older brother's like that too." Virgil commented as the last piece of metal gave in to the laser cutter. "Look, go after him. I'll be fine."

"Now is not the time to be a hero kiddo, so no way."

There was a small flashing light on the oxygen tank, announcing they had three minutes of air left. They needed to get out, and sooner rather than later. The good thing was that they weren't sinking deeper, but getting to the surface without being able to swim? That was near impossible.

"For crying out loud, what part of get yourself out of here is not sinking in?"

"Um...maybe none of it?" Scott muttered back distractedly. He figured he'd hurt his wrist. According to Xeon, who appeared incredibly relieved that the pilot was alright, he had sprained it. The explosions were getting ever closer when someone suddenly appeared next to them.

"Hey," John announced, grinning at him. "Thought you could need a hand."

* * *

_**And just because I'm kind, I'm uploading the next chapter again tonight. :)**_

_**Kat x**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**Starts off with action, ends with just plain fluff. Because I can't resist writing stuff like this. **_

* * *

Alan was silently freaking out. The radios had been silent for the last four minutes and according to the warnings Thunderbird 1 was giving him, he couldn't hold onto the wreckage his brothers were trapped in for much longer. His AI, Alpha, had confirmed it grimly, showing him the reasons why. The situation was not looking good to say the least. If only they would say something.

Tapping his fingers on the edge of the chair, he waited...and waited. Not knowing was even worse than knowing the worst. Then the warning that he had only had two minutes to go before Thunderbird 1 would either have to move, or be sent crashing into the icy depths of the ocean beneath him, and then they would all die...that was scary. Too scary. He was scared of drowning, that was the confession.

And if Thunderbird 1 was telling him that, then how much longer was left on oxygen levels in the breathers? Not much longer, that was obvious. No matter what John said, he still reckoned that if he'd been quicker, or done something, anything, that his brothers would be currently fighting for their lives under the water beneath him and he wouldn't be sitting in Thunderbird 1, holding his breath as he waited for news with Alpha regarding him through the vid-link cameras worriedly.

"Thunderbird 1, status report please."

"Um...two more minutes. That's all. Scotty, hurry up...please?" So what if he sounded like a little kid again? He just wanted his brothers back. Was that too much to ask? Maybe if he dived in the water as well.

But no. The startled yelp that came from the radio of Thunderbird 2 reminded him that there was one certain immediate older sibling that would be very confused and probably hurt right now.

"Gordon?" He called trough the radio in concern. There was a worrying silence and he tried again, frowning when he received no reply once again. "Gordon!"

Oh great. Now all of his brothers were AWOL.

Okay, so there was one thing he could do.

"Guys, get inside the wreckage!"

"What?" John asked him, obeying the order anyway, trusting his brother's instincts. Alan ignored him, double checking the VTOL's capabilities before muttering his plan to Alpha who confirmed the idea was do-able.

"Just hold on." He muttered, concentrating. Everything had to be perfect or he could end up crashing into the ocean faster than before and it would all have been a waste of time. He leaned forwards to the control panel, where Alpha illuminated the correct controls he needed. Reverse thrust, and then gain altitude...hey, he'd done this in simulators. And when rescuing some space station on Mars...okay, so that had been in Space, and it had been less dangerous...he hadn't had to make sure he wasn't about to crash into Thunderbird 2...but still. The point was the same.

"Whoa. That was...interesting." John muttered as they broke the surface of the water, blinking in the bright light. The warm air still didn't make much of a difference to warm him up. His uniform was soaked with freezing salt water and he shivered.

"Alan, I have no idea how the hell you thought of that, but that was amazing kiddo." Scott spoke into the audio-link.

"Thanks. Anyway, I learnt from the best."

Down below, three brothers exchanged glances, grinning. They were all alive, and everything was going to just fine.

They just had to track down a killer, collect Thunderbird 4 from the bottom of the ocean, and make new systems that couldn't be hacked, and...the list carried on.

But for now Alan was pretty happy to just sit back and feel rather pleased with himself. Then he could start worrying about whether his siblings were hurt or not. After all, they were alive, and that was what counted.

* * *

Ow. That was the first thought that entered his mind. He was alive, he guessed. He had to be - being dead surely wouldn't hurt this much? Bright white lights flickered all around and they seemed way too bright and painful to his sight after the semi darkness of the Research Sub that had been his tomb for a week before hand. Now the walls of where-ever he was seemed a harsh white, seeming to close in around him, and there was an uncomfortable feeling of eyes on him, watching like an eagle.

"Hello?" He called, trying not to yawn, and failing miserably. Why was he so tired? He gathered that all he'd done was sleep as he couldn't remember anything else. Blinking as he caught sight of a movement out of the corner of his eye, he started to remember, and then the memories came back with sudden jolt.

Whoa. Had he really blown up a sub? And - wait hold on a minute - what had happened to his precious Thunderbird? Aw man. His life officially sucked and -

"Well look who finally decided to wake up?" A cheerful voice announced.

"Guess he needed the beauty sleep. No, wait, it doesn't seem to have made much of a difference." There was a snigger accompanying that statement and a yelp as someone got hit round the head with a pillow.

He opened his eyes and gave a pitiful glare in the general direction of his little brother. Ha - that would make him pay for saying that. Attempting to sit up, he came face to face with a concerned looking older sibling, who looked like he'd been sitting there, waiting for him to re-gain consciousness for a while. Aw that was sweet...wait, had he seriously just thought that?

"Oh great," He heard himself mutter. His voice sounded, strange, like he hadn't spoken in ages, or hadn't had a drink in the past twenty-four hours. "Now I'm being watched by the Blonds. Can life get any worse?"

"Yep," Alan agreed cheerfully. "Scott could be allowed to come in and see you! Then you'd be smothered even worse! And I'm telling you, when Penny sorts out communications, and Dad hears you're in Hospital, then...what's up?"

"I'm in hospital?" He frowned at John who nodded, backing up Alan's story. The white walls, the overly bright lights...it did kinda make sense, even if the overwhelming exhaustion that threatened to take over any second refused to allow him to think properly. Oh.

"Where did you think you were, Fish?" John asked him, grinning, but worry still evident in his eyes as he leaned forwards, helping his brother sit up straight.

"Where's Thunderbird 4?" He shot back, wincing as both his brothers exchanged a worried glance. The smiles and familiar teasing had certainly disappeared. Of course, there was something else missing, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Between the half dazed state between full waking state and unconsciousness which he had found himself in since John had rescued him, and he'd been on Thunderbird 2, he could remember frayed pieces of conversation going on. He remembered figuring out that Virgil was in trouble as well.

Now looking round at his brothers, it finally sunk in that he was being watched by the Blonds, not by any other of his siblings.

"Where's Scooter and Virg?"

Another couple of looks were exchanged between his unhurt brothers. Alan looked decidedly guilty about something, and John just looked plain worried. A little voice told him helpfully that they were hiding something. He recognised his AI's voice. Oh finally Infinity. You took your time to show up, didn't you?

"Um...do you want to hear the bad news, or the not so bad news, but it's still not great?"

"Well that's positive." He muttered, closing his eyes again as the harsh lights became too much. It was dizzying. "Wait, hold on a second, where am I?"

"I thought you already told him that? Or am I imagining things?"

Gordon glared at his younger brother again, making a mental note that Alan really needed to be taught the art of whispering. Not the rubbish, quite loud, hushed tones he normally used.

"I meant," he announced, slightly sarcastically. "Where's the hospital that I'm in?"

Alan nodded, trying not to grin as he patted his brother's head earning himself an indignant glare. "Oh."

"In Bermuda," John told Gordon, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the end of the hospital bed.

"Okay...and the bad news is?"

"Thunderbird 4 is somewhere at the bottom of the ocean." John admitted, with a glance at Alan who purposely avoided his gaze.

For a few moments, silence fell completely over the room as Gordon attempted to figure out the information he'd just been given. His Thunderbird was at the bottom of the ocean? What? Oh no...just...no. Not '4. Please not '4.

"I- oh. Okay." He said at last in a very small voice. At least his siblings could sympathise with him, knowing what they would feel like if it was '5 or '3 that was now lying in the dark bleakness of the waters surrounding the island. John could definitely sympathise, having seen Thunderbird 5 damaged in the past. "And the not so bad news?" He asked, wondering if he ought to ask what had been going on since he'd first gone missing. Two weeks, was it? Or one? Everything seemed jumbled up, and he couldn't be bothered to make sense of it. He was too tired for that. Infinity could explain to him later. She was good like that.

"The not so bad news, that's still not great? Well...the little explosion display that got set off by the submarine you were on? Yeah, well Virgil and Scott kinda got caught up in that."

"Thanks to me." Alan muttered, looking downcast still, the guilty expression clear to see. Gordon frowned as his younger brother made some excuse about Penelope needing his help with something, and left the room.

"What's up with the Sprout?" He asked. John shrugged, casting a worried look after the youngest Tracy that Gordon noticed, and memorised for later. So something was definitely wrong.

"God knows why, but he seems to have got it into his head that if he'd been quicker with something I told him to do - it's a computing hacking technique - then he could have stopped Virgil and Scott getting caught up with the explosion. Although, considering they're both okay, well, Scooter decided to injure his wrist, so he'll be off duty for a while, and we managed to get you home, I don't think we did too badly."

"Right. And Alan's still annoyed because?"

"I have absolutely, definitely, certainly-"

"Johnny." Gordon groaned, flopping back against the pillows and covering his face with his hands. He opened one eye, sneaking a look through his fingers. John was grinning at him.

"Alright, alright, sorry. I have no idea."

"Right. That's just great. Aw man, why do I feel so tired?" He yawned again.

"Um...well some doctor started sprouting off medical terms, and there's a page of notes, but I'm damned sure I can't translate them. It's the medical garble that Virg normally starts muttering about when he's in full on Field Medic mode."

"Uh, seriously? Don't remind me - I'm still traumatised from the last time."

John grinned, glancing back at the door, as if expecting Alan to reappear.

"So. What's been going on while I've been running round a submarine chased by a mysterious shadow guy who threatened to murder everyone?"

"Yeah, we hired a detective team. They figured that out, and told us. You know, that's the kinda stuff you read about in Fiction novels, not in real life." John looked vaguely happy about that. Bookworm. Of course he would be. The guy probably had dreams about Sherlock Holmes meeting with Shakespeare and J.R.R. Tolkein.

"You guys knew about that?" Gordon asked him, the facts slowly adding up to make more sense. Infinity explained to him further, simplifying everything. He made a mental note to thank her later on.

"Well, not until yesterday," John admitted. "By the way, are you sure you're okay?"

"Dude, are you being serious? You're going all Smother Hen on me, and I haven't even had chance to be awake for an hour yet?"

"That's not what I meant. I know you're not hurt, not badly anyhow. I asked if you're okay?"

Gordon stared at him. "Um...you're scaring me."

"I don't know what happened on that sub, but from what I got told by Laura-"

"Wait: slow down a second...Laura." He gave his brother a shocked look as he gasped dramatically. "Is she your girlfriend or something?"

"What?" John gave him a horrified look. "No! I rescued her from a burning building, and she's on the investigating team that got sent out here, after Dad hired them through IR."

"Good. Don't scare me like that." Gordon smirked.

"Hey, I've got an idea, if I don't scare you, then don't ever, ever, allow me to think that you're dead? Deal?"

Silence fell again.

"You really had no idea if I was okay or not, did you?" He watched his brother's reaction. He could read him pretty well if he put his mind to it. Scott wasn't the only one who was a mind-reader.

"No. Then your stupid yellow sub had to go and disappear off scanners, which, according to Brains, should never happen even if you had lost all power. According to Thunderbird 5, you didn't exist. Oh, and yeah, then I see a massive explosion in the ocean, where apparently, you are. To be honest, what the hell was I meant to think?"

"Hey, you know me. I always come back to haunt you."

"Wait: did you say something relatively...serious?"

Gordon shrugged. "Too long spent underwater. Sea sickness."

"Dude, you seriously need chocolate." John announced matter-of-factly, looking deadly serious.

He couldn't help but laugh at the statement. It was so typically John to announce he needed chocolate. If anything went wrong, then his older brother would always, without fail, announce that chocolate was the answer. It was something so normal after so long underwater to hear him say that.

"You know, considering you're so annoying sometimes, for some weird, obscure, unknown reason, I missed you."

"Aw, was that a compliment? I feel so loved." John was smiling again; the concerned expression that he hadn't quite been able to shake was fully gone. Yes, he had waited a full twenty-four hours for his younger brother to re-gain consciousness, and while Virgil had been forced to undergo a full medical, and Scott had been having his wrist checked, it had just been him, and Alan, in a silent room, waiting for Gordon to wake up.

Then Alan had fallen asleep on him in the end, the emotional strain of the last few days, and the last couple of weeks, finally catching up with him as he'd closed his eyes, intending it to be just a few seconds, which had turned into a few hours. Not that John had minded. It had been a while since he'd seen the content look on his youngest sibling's face, and the complete and utter trust that was evident in the room had been something John had missed. He really had to get down from '5 more, he had decided.

And then there was Gordon, still un-conscious. John had never imagined what life would be like without any of his siblings, and he had never really assumed that any of them would one day not make it. It was just sort of accepted. Somehow, perhaps it was that goddam Tracy stubbornness that did it, but they all always came home. They had their scrapes, and injuries, obviously, and there was plenty of mother-henning going on, (normally Scott) but they made it.

That was when he promised himself that he was never going to let one of his brother's get into such a situation again. He knew they all knew the risks about rescues, but goddam it, it hurt so badly to see one of his brothers hurt. There was just the overwhelming feeling of guilt, and the knowledge that they weren't kids anymore - a hug and a sweet couldn't make it better.

But he could make sure that his brothers weren't going to disappear, or ever manage to evade his Thunderbird's powerful scanners. Because he didn't think he could cope with knowing that one day he might get back from '5, and they wouldn't be a complete family.

He jolted back to the present with a start.

"Oh shut up," Gordon muttered, grinning down at the floor, trying to hide his expression. It was good to be back on dry land - however much he loved the water; he never wanted to repeat the experience he'd just been through.

And then someone hugged him, successfully knocking him out of the weirdly, deep thoughts he'd been thinking, and sending him back to the world of the living.

"Yeah, well, I missed you too." John whispered, wrapping an arm round his shoulders, and feeling hopelessly over-protective.

"Oh come on, I leave for half an hour, and he wakes up? Alan, you traitor, you said you would come and get me the second he regained consciousness."

"I did!" The blond teenager protested, ducking as the other Tracy in the doorway attempted to ruffle his hair. Grinning, he raised an eyebrow. "That's your best attack tactic? Seriously?"

"Watch it kiddo, I could beat you any day."

"Wanna bet on it?" Alan jogged on the spot, the impish grin planted firmly on his face.

"Oh shut up Sprout. I want to see how our resident goldfish is doing."

"Hey Virg." Gordon called across, waving one hand lazily.

"Hey yourself. Ooh, wait a sec, John is that-?"

"Chocolate? Yup. The best." John froze, the chocolate bar clutched in his fist as he eyed his brother's slow but sure movements across the room. Virgil must never be employed by the FBI, he figured. He'd make a terrible secret agent.

"Can I have some?" Virgil whined, and John grinned triumphantly, using his height as an advantage.

"Nope, sorry Short-Stuff, it's all mine. Gords might be allowed to have someone if he doesn't call me space-case for an hour." He glanced across at Gordon, who was watching them in amusement. Well, at least they'd made him laugh.

"What?" Virgil yelped. "That is so unfair. And since when did you start insulting my height? It's bad enough having Scott call me that."

Gordon tried to refrain from laughing, but accidentally caught Alan's eye, and then the two started sniggering. Virgil and John glanced at each other, and then carefully moved away, towards the door.

"Uh-oh, the Terrible Two are back in business."

"No kidding," Alan announced cheerfully, and then stared at someone in the doorway. Ignoring the unusual silence from the youngest Tracy, John flopped back down in the chair, clutching his chocolate like it was the last on the Earth, and giving Virgil the evil glare whenever his younger brother attempted to grab one.

"Okay, can I have permission to translate this?" Virgil grabbed the medical notes, grinning as Gordon shot him a horrified look.

"No way bro. The slightest thing and you'll have me in the Infirmary for a week."

"Nah, probably two," John added, taking a bite of his beloved chocolate thoughtfully.

"No way, three at the least," Alan chimed in.

"I think a month," Virgil murmured, not fully aware of the familiar brotherly teasing taking place around him as he leafed through the pages of text. Frowning at his younger sibling, he glanced back down at the notes.

"No, you guys are so wrong. I think about...say a month and a half? And definitely no rescues!" A familiar voice chimed in and Virgil practically leapt out of his seat, having forgotten there was a door behind him, which set Alan off laughing again.

"Hey Scotty." Gordon waved at him. "Johnny, I've definitely earnt the chocolate."

"Oh really - hey! Give them back right now, I'm ordering you! How dare you? Give the chocolates back and I might be merciful. Give. Them. Back. Damn it Scott, they're my chocolates!"

"Hilarious how he hasn't changed since he was five?" Scott commented, ducking as John made to grab back his precious chocolates. "Okay, who wants one?"

Brothers successfully not paying any attention, he glanced at his red-headed brother, automatically going into over-protective mode. One thing was for certain, the moment they were out of the hotel room, however private it was deemed, (where International Rescue was involved, the press somehow found them every single time) Gordon had better be ready for the Smother Hens to be back in business.

"You okay?" He asked him quietly and Gordon shrugged, watching Alan make to grab one of the chocolates, and to be shoved out the way as John half dived, half leapt onto all of the confectionary, re-claiming it as his own.

"I dunno. I will be. That guy on the Submarine..." He sighed. "He was pretty damn scary, y'know? He knew my name. I don't get that part. How'd he know my name? Then he was trying to kill me the entire time." He shrugged, looking down. "I'm okay."

"You know you can't lie to me?" Scott asked him, half amused at the pathetic attempt of covering up true feelings, and half worried that his younger brother didn't seem to trust him.

"I figured that out ages ago, dude."

"Oh good. That makes my life easier then."

"Scotty, I really don't want to talk about what went on right now, okay?"

Scott nodded. "I'm not going to tie you to a stake and force you to talk, y'know? I'm just worried."

"Smother-Hen." Gordon muttered.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that?" Scott asked, grinning. He had heard every word.

"Nothing. Just thinking that maybe this time I really have succeeded in making you go prematurely grey."

"Oh, so that was your plan?"

"Yep. It was all part of my evil little plot." Gordon told him seriously, without laughing.

"You know there'll be repercussions?"

"Yep."

"Evil torture in return for such a cruel deed?"

"I know."

"Good. Wait, damn it, I don't have anything to threaten you with!"

"Tickle him?" John suggested from the other side of the room where he was using Alan as a human shield. The teenager was too busy laughing to care.

"Nah, the kid ain't ticklish." Scott shrugged.

"Hey Gordy, arm yourself!" Alan threw a pillow at his immediate older sibling, instead succeeding in hitting Scott. "Oh. Oops." Backing away slowly, he attempted to smile innocently at his brother.

"His aim is rubbish," Virgil whispered to John, purposely allowing Alan to hear.

Scott stared at Alan, before saying in a quiet, yet dangerous voice: "This, kiddo, means war."

"Me and Gords against you and Johnny?" Alan suggested innocently. The Terrible Two always won when it came to paint-balling, how hard could a pillow fight be?

"You're on."

"Whoa, hold on a second, what about me?" Virgil asked pathetically, looking hurt, but grinning at the same time, before the smile dropped from his face as he recognised the evil grin on Scott's face. "Oh no, Scooter, don't you dare say it."

"Say what?" Scott asked him innocently. "This? Everybody against Virgil!"

"No!" Virgil managed to squeak in protest before he got hit by pillows by grinning brothers.

"Ha, take that Space-Case!" Alan announced cheerfully, as John slipped over and landed at his youngest brother's feet, to be pounded with the pillow.

"That's it! I am taking back my oath to share my chocolate with you!"

"Hey, you can't hit the hospital bound victim!" Gordon protested as Scott all but dumped two pillows on top of his younger brother's head.

"Oh yes I can!"

"Now who's the five year old?"

"Oh shut up you!"

"Please, let me get up and fight back!" Came a plea from the floor, as John and Alan joined forces against Virgil. Eventually the medic gave up, and closed his eyes, surrendering to the pillow fight before catching sight of the chocolates. "Ha!" He announced, grabbing them and turning to face John. "Gimme a pillow or the chocolate learn to fly - the hard way!" He motioned towards the window.

John stared at him in terror. "No! My chocolates! That is it Virg, you are going _down_!"

"Help meeee!" In an act of desperation, Virgil grabbed Alan, using the teenager as a human shield as he attempted to hide from his furious older brother.

Scott and Gordon stopped to watch them in amusement.

"Truce?" Scott offered.

"Allies?" Gordon replied.

"FAB."

"Attack them?" Gordon added, grinning mischievously his inner five year old evident as he grabbed a pillow, weighing up the risks and deciding it was too much to resist.

"You got it." Scott agreed, smirking as he dive bombed his unsuspecting siblings with pillows. Instantly Virgil looked up, got hit in the face with a pillow, and dived for shelter beneath a chair.

"Admit defeat!" Gordon yelled.

"Never!" Virgil yelled back, ducking further under the chair, and coming face to face with a pair of shoes. Blinking up at their owner, he froze. Meanwhile, his brothers hadn't noticed their visitor, and Scott and Gordon were high-fiving, pelting the Blonds with pillows as John protected his chocolates with dramatic dives for cover and Alan just sat on the floor laughing.

"Whoo! Yes! Take that!" Gordon yelled, tossing a pillow at Alan who blinked as he got hit the face, and then sniggered. Grinning at John, he leapt to the side-lines, and noticed the visitor.

Still attempting to survive amongst the 'carnage', John gave a pitiful look at Scott, who ignored him. Eventually, John gave up, accepting defeat, and walking straight into the visitor.

"Ha! We win!" Gordon yelled gleefully.

"We are the champions-" Scott began, grinning as he high-fived his younger brother.

"And they are the losers!" Gordon finished and then they both turned around and froze as they spotted the visitor at the exact same moment. Silence descended and there was a small moment where everything was calm.

Then Virgil took advantage of the moment to throw a pillow at Scott, who glared at him, and the silence was broken again as Alan started laughing.

"Hey Dad." Gordon announced cheerfully.

* * *

_**There's been too many action scenes - I gave in and wrote a bother bonding scene. **_

_**Kat x**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**And now we have the final change to the story so far. Next time you'll have a proper chapter that you haven't already partly read. **_

_**Happy New Year by the way. 2016. Jeez. next thing I know it'll be 2017 and I'll be faced with 'what are your plans for the future?' or maybe 'all your decisions now will effect your entire life' or even 'pay attention young one, you see these red crosses? These are your FAILURES from Year One come back to haunt you...'**_

_**AHHHHHHH! That got way too intense...and terrifying to be honest. My teachers aren't that bad - I think. I hope. Oh god... I'm going to hide under a rock somewhere.**_

* * *

"No." The Assassin slammed down her hand on the table, sending pens and papers fluttering into the air, and rolling onto the floor, furiously whipping round to glare at her colleagues, her eyes flashing with cold suppressed anger.

Stalking down the corridor to the room, she stood in front of the trembling figure in front of her. "Let me see," She hissed in harsh whisper, coldness echoing from her tones. "You have lost my prisoner, and have allowed all three of the International Rescue operatives to escape with their lives?"

"I-I-I...I-" The man stared at her with large, terrified eyes. "I am s-sorry Miss-"

"Oh shut up! My brother was killed in that sub explosion, and they will pay dearly for that. I can now see that you are all incompetent stuttering fools." She sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulders as she turned on the spot, jet black coat swishing around her heels. She froze as a small voice came from her left:

"If I may speak, Miss-"

"No, you may not. If you want something done, then do it yourself, that's what my father always told me. God knows he was right. I must do this myself. International Rescue will pay, do you hear me? They will."

Sliding her gun into her pocket, she drew her hood over her head, and stepped out into the shadows, the glint of a small beam of light from the doorway behind her glinting off the gun's smooth surface. Just a touch of her finger to the trigger and her revenge would be complete.

She smirked up at the night skies above, her features twisted into an expression of sheer malice. She felt nothing anymore, just cold, and dark. In some distant part of her mind, she recognised it as grief she was refusing to acknowledge.

_'You may think this is over International Rescue, but it is not. I shall not rest until you know the pain I have suffered, and you will know, even if I die trying.'_

* * *

"I'm bored."

Sighing dramatically, and wondering exactly when he'd become sarcastic, Scott glanced over at his brother. Gordon was leaning against the whitewashed wall, sat on the bed, glaring out of the window in frustration. In all fairness, given that he could see palm trees, and everyday life going on outside, it was only natural for him to feel left out.

After finally dragging John and Alan to another hotel, where they got some much needed rest, and sending Virgil to get his final medical check after their rescue from the explosion, Jeff had settled down in a chair, next to Scott, and had tried to keep Gordon company.

After about two hours of Gordon complaining, Jeff had suddenly needed to make an urgent phone call and had disappeared. Needless to say, unless the phone call had taken an hour and a half, he was hiding just outside the door. Probably on the phone to Natasha in all fairness.

Not permitted to leave the hospital, as he was still under observation, Scott had stayed behind, to try and figure out what exactly had been going on with his brother. Now, much later on, he was still none the wiser.

"How unusual." Scott replied finally, the sarcasm evident in his voice. He normally left the sarcasm to Alan and Virgil, but if Gordon was bored...it was pretty obvious that Scott was too.

"Scooter...I'm seriously bored. Can't I just...I don't know...go outside for a bit?" Gordon hadn't noticed his voice was turning slightly whiny, like a little kid. Scott grinned - his brother really hadn't changed since they were kids in Kansas.

"Nope. Sorry Fish." He told the aquanaut, and then turned back to scrolling through the reports from the agents, that he was accessing via his watch. Many of them were just wondering what was going on with the communications, and that was to be expected.

Only one of them mentioned the commotion off the coast of Bermuda, and it was Agent 32, who was based near the tiny island, so Scott had been waiting for that particular message.

Gordon fixed him with a surprised look. "Aren't you even a little bit worried that I might...prank you or something?"

Scott yawned. "Not really, I mean, you said yourself that your back hurts still, and you're not walking that great. You were in an explosion not five days ago, I doubt your title as king of pranksters still belongs to you at the moment."

"Well who does it belong to?" Gordon demanded, horrified at the thought that his crown had been stolen from him.

Scott raised his eyebrows, as if it was obvious. "Alan."

"Oh great!" Gordon groaned, flopping back against the pillows. "So while I'm stuck in a hospital room, my kid brother gets to hold my crown?"

Scott tried desperately to hide the smirk that was appearing on his face. "Yes," he admitted.

Gordon closed his eyes, groaning. "Man this sucks."

"Must be better than a few days ago, being by yourself...?" Scott genuinely hadn't meant it to become a question, but the tone of his voice implied that he wanted an answer. Gordon was still refusing to tell anyone anything, and after some careful deliberation, they had come to the conclusion that if he didn't say anything soon, they would send in Alan to talk to him. The two were best friends, as well as brothers.

"A lot better. I know you guys are okay."

Scott frowned at his younger brother. Yes, so Gordon was annoyed at being what seemed to him like he was forced to stay in a hospital room, but to be so blunt and then stay completely silent, was totally not Gordon. That was what first started the familiar worried feeling, as Scott leant forwards.

"What made you think that we weren't okay?"

"Um...there was a hurricane and Virgil had already mentioned that he had engine problems?" Gordon suggested.

Scott sat back in the chair, folding his arms, the reports forgotten. "Nope, sorry, I'm not buying it kiddo."

"Alan might perform a really bad prank?"

Scott sighed, face-palming. "Try again. You might actually mention the truth someday."

"Alright, alright, the guy who was trying to kill me on the sub threatened to harm you...all of you."

He winced. Gordon, like all of the Tracy's, did not take kindly to someone threatening his family. Scott could only imagine his younger sibling's reaction to that.

"How much do you know of what happened?" Gordon asked him, quiet acceptance in his voice. With Scott in full smother hen mode, there was no way he was getting away with not saying anything.

"Nearly all of it. John filled me in on what happened while you were asleep."

"Right, well that's good, because I'm not really sure myself."

Scott frowned. "What?"

"I've been in an explosion, you said that yourself, I got hit on the head, I can't remember every single stupid little detail!"

"Okay, calm down kiddo, I'm sorry."

Gordon sulked. "Don't call me kiddo, I'm not Alan."

Scott shrugged, glancing over as the door creaked open slightly. Grinning as he caught sight of his father, he shrugged as Jeff glanced over at Gordon. Clearly having heard the conversation between his two sons, Jeff was interested to hear Gordon's side of the story.

"I know Thunderbird 4 went wrong..." Gordon began and then stopped, frowning. "Wait, hang on a sec, how did '4's systems get so messed up? I only did some work on her about a week before!"

"Long story, including some mad people," Scott told him. "Carry on."

"If they hurt '4 in any way, I will kill them, and then resurrect them, and the kill them again. But _veeerrry_ slowly."

Scott tried to hide his grin. Yep, they were definitely all over-protective of their Thunderbirds.

"So then I found this sub, and seeing as I was running out of air, and there was clearly somebody else in Thunderbird 4 with me, and no I'm not at all sure when that happened, but anyway. This sub had been completely deserted, apart from some random dead corpse in another room, and a strange radio message."

Scott thought back to the transmission he heard back on the Rescue Sub. "Yeah, we heard that one."

"Basically, to cut a long story short, I ended up blowing the sub up with me and this guy inside it, because otherwise you guys would die or innocent people would."

"So you're not planning to tell me about the little standoff in the darkness where you nearly got shot?" Gordon turned away, suddenly fascinated by the floor, or the trees outside the window. The memory was not one he wished to retell, especially considering everything that had happened.

But, with typical Tracy stubbornness, Scott wasn't about to let the matter drop. "Gords, I've heard it."

Gordon glared at the floor. "How?" He asked quietly, without looking up. He didn't trust his expression at that moment, and considering his older brother's creepy ways of being able to practically mind read if there was something wrong, it was safer to hide.

"Some officer called Sam got held captive by them, and he escaped. He was able to take his colleagues to the place where he'd been kept, and they found the recordings. The guy who tried to kill you on that sub was wearing a radio transmitter, and it sent back everything he and you said, which was saved onto the recordings."

Silence fell again, and Gordon was certain he wasn't going to be the one to break it. Why did Scott have to be so god dam perceptive the entire time? He couldn't just leave him alone? Oh no, he had to help...

"Was it something we said? Because you never really managed to deny properly that you didn't doubt yourself."

And there it was. Scott had said the one thing he really didn't want to hear. But it was definitely a question, and it was only fair after Gordon had nearly accidentally killed his brother in the explosion, that he answered it truthfully.

"No, you didn't say anything. It's just when I got injured in the past, and had an argument with Dad and one of you guys..."

Out of sight, Scott cast a worried glance over to the door where Jeff had been listening, silently hoping that their father hadn't heard that little piece of information. That wasn't what was worrying him though.

"So...who was the argument with?"

"Seriously Scott, it's no big deal, it was a long time ago, and when that guy mentioned that...it just brought back unwanted memories."

"And how long is long ago?"

"Over a year. Seriously, I'm not bothered. I was stressed out on that sub as well; I wasn't exactly in a position to be thinking straight."

Scott frowned at him, but let the matter drop. However many times Gordon pulled pranks, or annoyed him, Scott still knew if his younger brother was telling the truth or not. The argument, whoever it had been with, genuinely did not worry the prankster anymore, and it was a relief to know that.

Still, he couldn't resist ruffling his younger brother's hair, earning himself a mock annoyed 'hey!' and having a hug. Maybe he was a bit of a softie after all...

* * *

"Hello!" John yelled dramatically, practically jumping through the hospital room door, and making Scott jump. Close behind the blond, came Alan, arms laden with bags, as he struggled to see where he was walking.

"We come bearing gifts!" Alan announced. "I think so, anyway," he added as an afterthought.

Personally, Scott was still worried about the youngest Tracy, but Alan seemed fine at the moment, so he stayed silent. That was one talk that could wait until they were all back on Tracy Island.

"Well I come bearing a gift," Virgil told them, elbowing his youngest sibling out the way and grinning as Alan made a face. The sunlight shining in through the window was making the room hot, and Gordon caught sight of John casting the bags an anxious look.

"Let me guess," the red head began slowly, smirking. "Chocolate?"

John gave him an innocent look with wide eyes. "Moi? Chocolate? No way!"

"Yeah right. I should know, I'm the one who had to carry it!" Alan whined, throwing himself into a chair and pouting. Virgil laughed, shoving him out the way again.

"Move it Sprout, I have a proper gift to show...well, kind of tell I guess him."

"Him? I'm right here you know." Gordon whined, sulking.

Scott considered another sarcastic retort, and decided against it as John beat him to it.

"Ah," the blond began, an evil grin spreading across his features. "But you're just an invalid. You don't count."

Gordon glared at him. "I'm painting Thunderbird 5 neon pink next time I go up there."

Virgil, who'd only been half listening in the first place, looked up in horror. "What's all this about you and bright pink Gords?" Pretending to check his brother's temperature, he grinned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Maybe he fancies Penny?" Alan teased, not noticing the furious glare Scott gave him. It didn't go unnoticed by John and Virgil though, who instantly snapped into brotherly teasing mode.

"Guys! Virg, what did you want to tell me?" Gordon demanded, trying to duck as John hit Alan with a pillow.

"That your gift is freedom!"

Silence fell as they all stared at the middle Tracy.

"Uh...great? Thanks...? Can I have that in English now then?" Gordon replied after an awkward few seconds.

Virgil sighed. "I mean, that unfortunately for us, you're free to go. The hospital has declared you fit to leave."

"Yes!" High-fiving Alan, Gordon instantly started thinking up new ideas and plans for pranks. Finally he could swim in the pool again. And check on his beloved fish...and...

"Scott, John, I need to talk to the pair of you outside for a moment." Jeff announced suddenly, appearing by the door. He cast a concerned look over his shoulder as the two men waiting in hallway checked their watches.

Scott and John exchanged confused glances. "Alright, just coming."

Gordon glanced after them as they left the room, the door closing behind them. "What's up with Dad?"

Virgil shrugged. "God knows..." A mischievous grin appearing on his face, he leapt to his feet, helping Alan up off the floor where the teenager had been scoffing the chocolate. "Come on then, let's find out!"

* * *

The cool air conditioning of rest of the hospital was a contrast to the heat in Gordon's room, thanks to the sun filtering in through the window, and a faulty air-conditioning unit. A few stray members of the general public were milling around here and there, waiting for news about loved ones, or waiting for their own appointments.

The bright spotlights were harsh compared to the natural daylight shining in through the window of the room they'd been in before, and Scott blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust quicker. Beside him John grimaced as he accidentally looked straight into one of the lights.

At the end of the corridor, Jeff and the two men were waiting for them. The unknown visitors were in suits, and were looking rather uncomfortable, shifting back and forth. A thin layer of dust covered the black boots from outside, and they did not look very impressed about it.

"Hello, this looks very official," John muttered to his older brother. Scott nodded, frowning as he took a step forwards.

"Wonder why Dad didn't want to speak to Virg as well?"

"God knows," John replied, matching his sibling's pace as they headed towards the visitors. Whatever was the matter, it couldn't be good, especially looking at the worried expression that had settled on their father's face. Jeff looked more than concerned, as he glanced back at the door to Gordon's room.

"You must be Scott and John, I presume?" One of the men spoke, glancing at them and frowning.

John raised his eyebrows at his father, and frowned as Jeff shook his head. No, he hadn't mentioned their names. These men knew them, and had asked specifically for them. That was worrying to say the least.

"Yes. And you are?" Scott wasn't being unpleasant, but there was a slight edge to his brother's voice that made John wonder exactly how cold his brother could have sounded in the Air Force.

"Oh, right, sorry," The other man was more friendly, offering them a cheerful grin. He didn't care for the suit at all, undoing the top button of his tie, tossing his jacket over his arm and loosening his tie. "I'm Oscar. You know my colleague, Tom, I believe?"

John relaxed. "Yeah, we know him. You work with him then?"

"Yes. Anyway, he's discovered something, and I don't know anything about it either, but apparently he needs us there, and it would be handy if you two were there too." Oscar explained, shrugging. The other man sniffed, glaring at Jeff.

Jeff frowned, trying to figure out what the other man had against him. He decided he was imagining things, and turned his attention back to his sons.

"Well where is he?" John asked, frowning as Oscar gave him a small smile.

"Uh...by your Thunderbirds?"

"Oh great!" Scott snapped sarcastically. "Now we really will have to fight off the media, now there's even more commotion by the Thunderbirds!"

John tried and failed miserably to hide his grin as he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to figure out why his sibling was so on edge. "Calm down Scooter, Penny's already making sure that doesn't happen." Then he couldn't resist it, as he added: "Or don't you trust her?"

"Shut up, of course I trust her." Scott glared at him, and then shrugged. "Alright, let's go."

"Uh, Dad, what about Virg?" John asked, with a glance over his shoulder at the room where his brothers were.

"Leaving the Terrible Two by themselves when Gordon's going to want to prank us all?" Jeff raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had more sense than that."

"Point taken," John laughed, and followed Scott down the corridor, his trainers squeaking against the cold floor panels, as they headed out into the bright sunlight, and hot weather.

* * *

"Would you please remove your foot from my face, Alan?" Virgil snapped as he was sent collapsing into a bush, sticking up his head to give his smirking brothers an annoyed glare. The cloud of dust that refused to shift from his hair was beginning to annoy him as well, he realised as he ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't even hear what was being said.

"We need to get closer," he realised aloud and clambered out of the foliage, leaves stuck to his t-shirt.

"Well no kidding," Gordon muttered, creeping along the ground until he was alongside his immediate older brother. Virgil glowered at him, and then gave an exasperated sigh as Alan accidentally kicked him again.

"Alan!" He hissed in annoyance.

"Sorry!" The blond haired teenager squeaked, and then tumbled head over heels down the hill and landed at a familiar figure's feet. Alan grimaced as he slowly looked up at the guy who had managed to stop him from going flying into the sea.

Scott stared down at him in disbelief. As far as he was concerned, his youngest brother had literally appeared from nowhere. "Where's Gords and Virg?" He asked.

Alan grinned sheepishly at him. "Aw, c'mon Scotty, you don't seriously think they would just let me eavesdrop on you?"

Scott cast his eyes skyward. "Nope, so it would probably best if they both climb out that bush they're hiding behind."

"Damn you're scary," Virgil muttered, as he got to his feet. "Did you know we were there?"

"I suspected," Scott lied, the truth being he hadn't had a clue. Gordon leapt out of the bush as well, glaring at Virgil as he muttered something about irritating brothers and leaves.

* * *

Half an hour later, all of the Tracy brothers were standing alongside Tom, Sam, Laura, Oscar and a few other random people who were with the detective team, including Agent 32, staring in shock at the woman in the middle of the circle.

Well, Virgil was the most surprised. Remembering the face that had stared up at him at that rescue scene he'd flown away from...and the same face that had belonged to the Assassin. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to keep the furious glare in check.

"Virg!" Scott's voice brought him back to the present with a jolt, and he noticed the concerned expression on his older brother's face. He shook his head, signalling he was fine. Standing in the shadows of their Thunderbirds, they all glared at the woman.

"You again!" Scott announced in a dangerous voice. If looks could kill, then the Assassin would be pushing up the daisies right now, Virgil thought dryly.

"Oh hello," she shot back with a cold, toneless voice. Her expression was devoid of all expression, her features drawn into a harsh frown.

"This is the person in charge of the entire plan which Laura told you about, John," Tom mentioned quietly, noting the furious glare the blond was shooting the Assassin's way.

Scott was just about managing to keep himself from punching her, furious that she was the one who'd planned everything, the one who'd caused his brothers so much hurt.

John however, wasn't. Mostly he was the calm one, who never got angry, but when he did...well, his siblings just ran and hid.

"Johnny," Virgil warned him in a low voice, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and holding him back before the taller man could attempt anything. "She's not worth it."

John cursed in polish before closing his eyes and nodding. "Fine." He growled, clenching his fists.

"Do you give in now? It's all over, you're surrounded, there's nothing left for you here," Tom spoke quietly, directly to her. Whipping round, she fixed him with a painless glare.

"Oh, but I have not had my revenge!" She laughed coldly, and then her hand moved suddenly, the glint of a gun evident in her hand.

"Get down!" Scott yelled, realising in a second what was about to happen. Then she pulled the trigger...

* * *

Somewhere amongst the commotion, Alan figured that they needed some sort of shield. It was them that she really wanted to kill, so either they hid, or they fought back. Given that they had no weapons, the latter option was not the best idea.

Then when he found himself practically staring down her gun, he remembered something. Raising his arm up, he desperately hoped he would be in time. After all, she was pointing a gun directly at Gordon, and his partner in crime had no way of escaping...

* * *

Someone slammed a hand on his back, forcing him to the ground just in time, and John blinked round, figuring it was Gordon, or Oscar. Whoever it was, he was grateful. Speaking of Gordon, his younger sibling seemed to be...in trouble to say the least.

Trying to figure out why his leg was hurting, he limped and half crawled towards his brother, determination to keep his siblings safe giving him strength.

"Gordon!" He yelled, but the noise of screaming from people drowned out his voice. Trying to decide whether to punch the ground in frustration or not, and deciding against it, he yelled again. "Gordon! Move!"

Meanwhile, Gordon stared at him. There was nowhere for him to move, couldn't John see that? Surprisingly enough, the red-head didn't want to die, and seeing as he was currently staring down the barrel of a gun, that seemed like the most possible option.

Then someone yanked towards them, and he tumbled down a small slope, crashing into Alan.

"Thanks," he whispered to his saviour.

John grinned at him. "You're welcome."

Although seeing as gunshots were still flying towards them, there wasn't much time to relax. Still not able to see where Scott and Virgil were, John stayed close to the ground, and crept towards the Assassin. Perhaps if he could knock her feet out from under her, which would give them all chance to gather their senses, and then fight back.

Then another wave of pain shot up his leg, and he was sent collapsing on the ground with a gasp. Damn it hurt. He figured he'd got hit or something by the gunshots.

"Johnny!" Gordon shouted, concern evident in his voice. Watching in horror as the Assassin stalked towards his injured brother, he propelled himself over the sun baked ground, threw himself on top of his sibling to protect him and screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain of the gunshot wound.

* * *

Instead of the sharp pain he'd been expecting, Gordon could hear the loud sound of engines, and then a wave of heat. Opening his eyes, he caught sight of Thunderbird 3 landing on the ground in front of them, acting as a shield. The harsh should of bullets hitting metal made him wince.

A few metres away, Alan lowered his arm, and stopped controlling his Thunderbird from his watch as Alpha confirmed it was covering them. Blinking through the rising dust at his beloved rocket, he glowered at the ground furiously as he heard the bullets hit the red-orange craft. She would pay for damaging '3, he could promise her that.

Then everything fell silent...too silent. Alan raised his head, and looked around him. Gordon was still lying over John, protecting him from further injury, and Scott was lying on the ground in front of Virgil, from where he'd thrown himself as a human shield between the gun and his younger brother. His eldest sibling was completely still, and for one heart stopping moment, Alan wondered if he'd been injured in the gunfire. Then Scott coughed, and sat up, blinking as he realised Alan had protected them all by using Thunderbird 3. Giving his youngest brother a proud smile, he helped Virgil to his feet.

"Everyone okay?" Scott called. Virgil and Alan gave him a nod, and he cast a worried glance over at the remaining two Tracy's, who had still remained silent.

"John's hurt!" Gordon yelled across.

"I'm fine," John protested as Scott immediately started running towards him. "It's just a scratch."

"It seems to be bleeding an awful lot, for just a scratch," Gordon shot back, watching him in concern anyway.

To be honest, John thought to himself. He's probably right. And considering the way I ended up at the mercy of that Assassin woman, because I couldn't stand properly...yeah, probably best to let Virg give me a medical.

Virgil half flung himself, and half ran, towards his brothers, reaching them just before Alan did. Glancing down at his immediate older brother, he couldn't help but grin.

"Sure it's just a scratch, Johnny?" He asked. John glared at him.

"You're the medic, you tell me." He snapped back.

"Whoa, calm down, just asking." Virgil was personally probably finding it a bit too funny, but considering he secretly knew that John was actually right, the bullet hadn't gone deep, certainly not deep enough to cause any damage or cause for concern, but deep enough to cause pain and to make it bleed. Why was it, whenever John came down from Thunderbird 5, he always, without fail, managed to get himself injured? Even on '5, he'd managed to break his ankle by falling over the control chair, and he knew his 'bird back to front.

"Happy now you've determined I'm not going to collapse on you, give a little speech and promptly die?"

Virgil smirked at him. "Now who's sarcastic?"

John rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up."

"Hello? Are you lot alright?" A voice called, and the shape of a man came into view. Scott and Virgil exchanged glances - they knew that voice.

"Hey Tom!" Scott called, jumping to his feet, satisfied that his brothers were alive and well, and weren't about to die. "Are you all okay?"

Tom grimaced. "One of my guys got shot...not badly, but he'll be out of action for a month or so..." He glanced over his shoulder at the guy in question, whom Laura was hugging. The guy was looking extraordinary happy considering his injury, but that could be to do with exactly who was hugging him. Tom grinned - he was glad he'd brought Sam along as his right-hand man after all - they'd become good friends, better friends than he was with Oscar.

"Uh, sorry..." Scott began, not really sure what to say.

Tom grinned at him. "It's fine, he's personally quite happy about it. He appears to have got himself a girlfriend by the sympathy vote."

John and Virgil looked delighted, staring at their older brother with sparkling eyes.

"Hey Scotty," Virgil began with an impish grin that belonged on Gordon.

"Maybe we should shoot you?" John added.

"And then Penny would hug you!" Virgil finished, and high-fixed John before doubling over with laughter at the look of outrage on the Field Commander's face.

Feeling his pride beginning slowly evaporated at every word, Scott shot them a glare, before trying definitely not look at the bright pink car, which the beautiful blond woman was stepping out of, looking horrified. Parker had forced to hide in FAB1 when the shooting had started, and they hadn't had chance to help out defending anyone before the Assassin had been taken down.

"What happened?" She gasped. "Honestly," at this she fixed Scott with a stern glance and he flushed, staring at ground with sudden interest, "I leave you boys for half an hour and you nearly manage to get yourselves shot?" She shook her head in dismay, blond hair swishing around her face. "And what on earth happened to Thunderbird 3?"

Alan turned a funny shade of white as he tentatively stepped forwards, and then sat down hurriedly. "My poor baby," he whimpered, pressing a hand against the ruined paintwork. "I'm sorry."

Gordon tried not to laugh, and failed.

"I'm sure Tin-Tin would love to know that she has been replaced by a rocket," Virgil muttered with amusement, half considering asking Solaris to film his brother's reaction. It would be one way to entertain themselves during the sleepless nights after some of the harder rescues.

Alan blinked in horror at his rocket, trying to ignore the few treacherous tears that were forming. Thunderbird 3 was going to need a lot of repair work.

"Holy-" At the last second, Gordon remembered who he was standing in front of, and cast Penelope a sheepish glance. "Jeez Al, do you have any idea what Dad and Brains are going to say?"

Alan cast him a glare. "Well next time I'll wait to see if you've been killed before I save your sorry little life."

"Please do! He's annoying me!" John piped up; the painkillers Virgil had given him beginning to kick in. Giggling randomly, he stared at Penelope. "You're pretty!"

Scott slapped a hand over his younger brother's mouth. "Shut up, John," he hissed.

"Oh for crying out loud Virg, I thought there was a rule - don't give Scotty and John painkillers unless it will knock them out - otherwise they go...slightly crazy..." Gordon groaned, covering his ears as John started giggling again.

"Yeah, well, if you fancy carrying a very inconveniently tall brother, then fine, have it your way."

Gordon shrugged. "Back, so I can't. Scott can though."

Virgil stared him. "I'm convinced that's just an excuse."

"Can you prove it?" Gordon shot back, grinning as his brother groaned.

"I hate you sometimes."

"Are you sure you're all alright?" Penelope asked, still concerned as she looked round at her friends. "Scott!"

He jumped, looking round frantically. "W-what?"

"Are you hurt at all?" She stepped forwards, placing hand on his shoulder as she look at him in concern, and casting her searching gaze over his wrist. "Are you alright?"

Scott shrugged. "I'm fine," He replied with a glance down at his bandaged hand, and then looking up to meet her worried blue gaze. "Honestly, Penny, you don't need to worry."

She laughed, shaking her head. "As if I would worry about you."

He sulked, crossing his arms and turning his back. "And there I was thinking you cared."

"Hey," Penelope turned him to face her. "I never said I didn't care." She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, resting her head against his shoulder. "Because I really do. So never scare me like that again, I'm begging you."

Scott smiled. "I promise not to try and get shot, drowned, or assassinated. At least not on purpose."

She didn't move from the hug as he wrapped his arms round her as well. "Thank you."

* * *

_**OMG! Longest chapter ever, now, it's 5,654 words long. That's insane. Yeesh.**_

_**Kat x**_


	23. Chapter 23

**_IMPORTANT NOTICE: READ THIS TO UNDERSTAND THIS CHAPTER! _**

**_Okay, first of all: I am so sorry I didn't update sooner. I had no ideas what-so-ever about where this was going next, but then I was invited to take part in a Fanfiction writing contest so I only ha this story which I could enter. Reading it back, I was just cringing so I rewrote it. _**

**_It's now a mixture of TAG 2015, movie-verse and the original TV-verse, just so you know. And to understand everything, you'll have to read it from the beginning as new characters have been added, more things to the plot and so on. so before you review that it doesn't make sense, read it from the beginning. I promise it does work out._**

* * *

"Hey." John leant against the glass sliding doors, ducking to avoid some of the scaffolding that was in place as the Villa was still being rebuilt. There wasn't a reply from the figure sitting by pool, and he came and sat down beside him, dangling his feet in the warm water. The pool had been cleaned and rebuilt along with the replacement decking as soon as possible, for Gordon's sake.

"You okay?" John asked, glancing across at his brother. Gordon seemed to be lost in his memories for the time being. The only sound was the splashing of the waves against the bottom of the steps down to the beach, and that stupid parrot sitting on the balcony by Alan's room.

Ok. This is awkward.

"Um…can you say something, because this is getting weird?"

"Hi." Gordon told him at last, not really paying attention.

"Oh hooray! I thought you'd gone mute. Actually, that would kinda be a bit of a blessing, but still, you know what I mean. That was getting awkward. I'm sort of doing the talking for both of us right now I guess, so I'll shut up. Should I? This is weird. Please talk to me. Oh, what the heck?"

"Johnny, you're right. What the heck?" Gordon looked up at his brother, raising his eyebrows and trying not to laugh. "What was that?"

"Um…actually, that was Scooter sending me to get you to talk to us. So yeah. I'll transform back into myself again."

"You're actually going to show me how you look as an alien?"

"Ha! Told Virg that I could get a joke out of you."

"Have you been on the chocolate again?" Gordon asked him, with a 'seriously?' expression planted firmly on his face.

John averted his glance. "Maybe." He snuck a glance at his brother. "Okay, spill. You've been quiet ever since we got back from Bermuda. What's up? And don't say the sky, because that's my line."

"Nothing's up. I'm just…adjusting to human company again. You do realise that I spent over a week with just a freaking angler fish for company?"

"Yeah, that must have been weird."

"Lonely more like. You have no idea how much I wanted that radio to start working again."

"Still, could have been worse. You could have been stuck down there with Alan."

"Actually, I'd have kinda liked that." He shrugged, staring out at the horizon. The sun was setting, casting a warm amber glow across the sky. The usual yells were coming from the game room – the sooner Virgil realised he was never going to beat Alan at that zombie killing game the pair were obsessed with, the better everyone's lives would be.

"She's still out there." Gordon whispered, leaning against his brother. John didn't move, trying to think of who his brother was on about before realisation dawned with a horrifying jolt.

"The Assassin?" He asked gently.

"Who did you think I meant? Penelope?"

"Sarcasm really isn't your forte. Stick to pranks." John told him, leaning back to watch the stars that were appearing in the darkening skies. "She's in prison Gordon. She's got the police, and the FBI questioning her. She doesn't stand a chance."

"She tried to kill us. And I'm still not entirely convinced why? People are trying to explain to me, and I just…I dunno. Everything's weird. And one of my fish got eaten by Alan's alligator while I was on that sub, so that sucks as well."

John glanced over his shoulder to hide his grin. "Poor fish."

"No shit. Imagine how it must have felt. Coming face to face with a blooming' alligator."

"Oh jeez." He couldn't help it after that, laughing, and trying to stop as Gordon shot him a hurt look.

"Watch it – that's my fish you're talking about."

"Would you like me to ask Virg to write a funeral song for it?" John asked him with a smirk as he tried not laugh again.

"God no! It deserves to hear Yellow Submarine played over and over again, and then the Finding Nemo theme tune. That would be a good send off."

"Yeah, well as long as Alan stops setting my ring tone to Barbie songs, then I'm happy."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I actually got a date with this pretty girl on the check-in desk at Sydney Airport, and then Dad calls me, and my ring-tone is fricking Barbie songs."

"That is the best yet." Gordon lay down on the decking, laughing wildly.

"I'm glad someone's happy about it." John muttered sarcastically. "Look, she'll be found, and arrested. And in the mean-time, have you even wondered where Scott, Dad and Brains have been all day?"

"Hiding the rest of your chocolate supplies?"

"And risk facing me having withdrawal symptoms? Please. Actually, come to think of it…" He grabbed a chocolate bar from his pocket. "Yup, been exactly half an hour since I last had some."

"Dude, you have a problem."

"Thank you. Love you too."

Gordon regarded him from the other side of the pool, kicking water towards him.

"Hey! I only washed this shirt yesterday!"

"Do I look like I care?" Gordon grinned, before getting to his feet and waiting expectantly. "Okay, where have they been?"

"Come and look." John stood up, kicking the skateboard Alan had left there earlier to the side, and wincing at it shot off into the trees. "Oops."

"Well, it's been nice knowing you. He's gonna murder you for that."

John cast him a terrified look, before promptly walking into the closed door.

"Why don't you just tell me what they've been working on?"

"That would ruin the surprise."

"I hate surprises." He muttered, sulkily.

"You'll like this one." John promised.

* * *

"Are you sure I can't just paint over it with average yellow paint?" Jeff whined.

"Q-quite sure Mr Tracy," Brains told his friend, trying his best to not laugh as Jeff stood back and stared at the streak of chemicals that he had accidentally just tipped over one of the metal plates that made up Thunderbird 4's hull.

"But Brains, it'll take forever to get that lot off." Jeff caught himself at the last moment, realising he sounded remarkably like a sulky child. A quick glance across at his friend revealed that Brains clearly was thinking the same thing.

"I g-guess you could always paint over it using this," The scientist suggested, passing him the correct chemical that protected the submarine from the salt in the sea water. He grinned. "It'll probably cover it up."

"Thanks. Gordon would probably go crazy if I mess this up one more time, and he finds out."

"Yes, what i-is it now – let me t-think…the fifth time you've gone wrong?" Brains was finding the entire situation a bit funnier than it was probably safe to, sniggering every five minutes as Jeff accidentally kicked something over. Natasha was better at the entire repairing thing than Jeff, and that was saying something.

"I haven't worked on the Thunderbirds in a year," He protested. "I think I deserve to be let off."

"W-well," Brains began, attempting to think of a suitable come back, and coming up empty handed, as he turned to face his friend. Thankfully he was interrupted a crash at the hanger entrance.

"Good to see you're as graceful as ever Johnny," Gordon laughed, helping his brother up. John, still sulking, headed over to the other Pod, and sat down on top of the Firefly, waiting for his brother's reaction. Beside Thunderbird 4, Jeff tried to casually hide the oil streak along the submarine.

Gordon stared at the Thunderbird in disbelief. "I thought…with the explosion…"

"That you no longer had a Thunderbird?" John finished for him, jumping down off the Firefly and crossing the hanger floor to join his brother. "Nah, it took a while, but we found the…erm…wreckage. Thank the best Thunderbird's scanners for that little trick."

Gordon gave him a seriously look, before turning back to the Thunderbird. Although stripped of her yellow paint, and now grey in colour, Thunderbird 4 didn't look as bad as he'd expected. The basic framework and wiring, plus main systems had been completed – all that was left to do was the chemicals that had to be painted over the top, and the familiar yellow paint.

Stepping towards the sub, Gordon couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he pressed a hand against his beloved Thunderbird.

"Uh, there a-are still a lot of things that have to be re-installed," Brains told him, leafing through a folder of the original specs for the submarine. "But you should be able to take her out within the next four months."

"So, what do you think?" Jeff asked, leaning against the side of the hanger, and trying to wipe paint off of his shirt. Failing miserably, and instead ending up with yellow streaks all over his clothes, he turned his attention back to his son.

"By the way, you have to be pleased, because Dad and Brains have been working down here non-stop," John added, shrugging as his father raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Just saying."

* * *

"You realise that whenever you play that kind of music, I automatically know something's wrong, right?"

Virgil stopped playing, his fingers hovering above the piano keys as he glanced over at his brother.

Scott was sitting on the sofa, a mobile in one hand and the tablet in the other, scrolling through the files on the updated security systems in Thunderbird 1, reading a few lines every now and then, but mostly looking at the mobile.

Virgil slid off the piano stool, and headed over to him, sinking down on the sofa beside his brother and sighing.

"I may as well stick a neon sign on my head saying there's something wrong then?"

"Yep." Scott tossed the tablet onto the table, and sat back, tapping the mobile screen in annoyance.

"Okay, spill. Who are you waiting for?" Virgil motioned towards the phone.

"Agent 12. He's got contacts in the journalism world, so he's attempting to make sure the entire Bermuda story doesn't get caught up in the news when the Assassin gets sentenced. He's supposed to have called me half an hour ago." Scott glanced down at his watch. "Wait, scratch that. An hour ago."

"Maybe he's got a bad connection?" Virgil suggested, trying to sound reassuring.

"Maybe." He frowned. "Or maybe they've finally sentenced the Assassin. In which case don't expect to see me at dinner, because all my communication systems will be going haywire."

Virgil laughed. "And mine."

"So, in the mean time, I'm planning to question you until you get sick of me and tell me what's wrong." Scott told him, grinning as Virgil groaned. "Don't try and get out of it – you know I'll find out sooner or later."

"The most annoying thing is that you're right. What do you do? Stick cameras and microphones everywhere and get Xeon hack our phones just to find out?"

Scott shrugged. "Possibly. Mind-reader sounds much cooler though."

"Sorry, but Johnny's already taken that job."

Silence fell for a few moments. There was a crash from the kitchen, a curse and then the sound of pounding footsteps as Alan ran from the crime scene.

"If I had gone back for her, the Assassin as she was then, and her family…all of this could have been avoided. Our entire family almost got ripped apart because of someone I failed to save. How the heck am I meant to get over that?"

"It wasn't your fault, Virg." Scott murmured.

"I know that. But I can't stop feeling guilty, and I don't know why. Have you noticed how quiet Gordon is these days?"

Scott looked out of the glass doors at the pool to where he'd sent his immediate younger brother to speak to the Aquanaut. "Yeah. He's been through a lot, just give him time. He'll be back to normal soon."

"But that's my point. He shouldn't have had to go through all that. I could have saved her, and still had time to get back to rescue all those others."

"It was her life and her brother's against all those hundreds of people we did save." Scott pointed out. "You made the right choice, okay?"

"Maybe. I can't shake the feeling this isn't over though. I won't feel like everything's back to normal until she's in jail for good."

"She will be soon. She's wanted in so many different countries for different things anyway – she's got nowhere left to run even if she does escape now we have agents on high alert everywhere as well."

"Right, because she managed to evade everyone before."

"Virg, stop beating yourself up about it all." Scott stood up, and grinned as his phone started buzzing. "Right, I've got to take this."

"Go ahead. I'll just…chill here. And possibly eat that chocolate cake that's in the fridge."

Scott fixed him with a glare. "Eat that cake, and you will have something to worry about."

Virgil laughed, watching as his brother held the mobile to his ear, and listened intently, rolling his eyes at the constant flow of unnecessary information that Agent 12 provided him with, before his expression darkened.

"Right. Okay." Scott shook his head at Virgil to be quiet as he went to ask. "Well thank God for that. Have you got our names out of the press? Thanks. I appreciate it."

He ended the call and then dropped the mobile onto the table, heading onto the balcony. Virgil followed him, leaning against the railings. There was a squirrel-like creature nibbling at a cookie Alan had left by the pool by accident earlier, and he watched it in amusement.

"What's wrong?" He asked, watching as Scott glared at the sea as if it had set fire to Thunderbird 1.

"The Assassin's been sentenced."

"That's good, right?"

"I'm not sure." Scott turned to face him. "Because here's the thing – she's asked to see you."

* * *

"This really is not recommended. You don't have to visit her." The AI's voice echoed into his ear through the ear-piece he was wearing and he frowned.

"Solaris, drop it. I'll be fine. Maybe she'll finally get out of my head if I visit her."

"Alright. I'm just worried," She whispered back to him and he shrugged before realising she couldn't see him.

"I'm okay." He told her, before watching as the spotlights in the room on the other side of the glass flickered into life. There was single grey chair in the white room, and a burly police officer stood with one hand hovering other his gun, ready to spring into action.

Virgil was aware that there was only the thick glass screen between him and the Assassin when she stepped into the room. She looked different, smaller, younger, even more innocent with her long hair cropped short and jagged around her face. Her black and red jumpsuit was gone, and in its place was the old prison clothes.

Spotting him, she stopped, freezing for a moment, before smiling softly and crossing the room to the chair. She was barefoot. The concrete floor was cold against her skin.

Curling up on the chair, she regarded him in silence for a moment or two. There were bruises down the left of her face, and there was a cut on her hand. She leaned forwards, resting her hands on the glass.

"You came," She spoke at last. Virgil watched her cautiously, guarded. Solaris was right, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. It had taken a lot of persuasion by John and Natasha to get Scott to allow him to go.

"Yes." He replied at last, leaning forwards as well to hear her better. She looked nervous, as if expecting to be hit. Virgil frowned at the scared glance she gave the police officer, wondering how she'd come by the bruises.

"I didn't think you would," She admitted, watching the way he noticed her nervous glance at the police officer. "I need to speak to you, but I can't talk with him here." She bit her lip. "I don't know if you understand what I mean, but let me just say that…" She paused, leaning closer to the glass, and lowering her voice to a barely audible whisper. "They don't take kindly to my way of making a living around here.

He frowned at the bruises lining her face. She shivered. She was looking paler than he recalled her being on Bermuda, at least two months before. "Please." She whispered.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Virgil asked her, with a pointed look at the gun in the officer's hand. She blinked, looking wide-eyed at him.

"You can't. But something tells me that you're perceptive. You know if I'm telling the truth or not when I tell you that I'm not going to hurt you or your family." She placed one hand on the bruises and glanced down.

Virgil sat back in his chair, regarding her body language. He was meant to hate her, he knew that, and yet at the same time, there was something about her that he found he could understand. This was a stupid idea. She was an Assassin. And yet…

"You can go." He spoke aloud, and clearly. The police officer glared at him, with dark and shadowed eyes.

"Sir, this is not recommended."

"I don't care. I want you to leave."

With a brief nod, the man left, the heavy metal door closed and bolted behind him. The Assassin looked up at the security cameras. Virgil frowned and pressed one hand to his ear-piece.

"Hey Solaris, do me a favour and hack those. Get us off their grid for, say, ten minutes?"

"Already done." The AI murmured back to him.

He crossed his arms, watching her in silence. She blinked, shaking her head, and running one hand through her cropped black hair, her eyes swimming with unshed tears for a moment or two.

"Why would you do that?"

"Do what?" Virgil inquired, placing one hand on the glass.

"Show me kindness? After all I have done?" She whispered, a single tear trickling down her cheek. She lifted her hand to press against his, only the glass separating them. Virgil watched her narrowed eyes, trying to determine whether she was faking it or not. She wasn't. He could tell.

"Because that's what I do. I'm part of International Rescue. It's not like me to turn my back on someone who's upset, despite what they've done." He told her. She shook her head, looking down, her face framed by shadows.

"No. You should hate me. It would make it easier for me to accept what I've done to you."

They sat in silence for a minute or two and Virgil took in her expression. She looked devastated, confused and terrified. Terrified of what?

"Why did you ask for me?" He asked her finally, breaking the silence. She sniffed, reaching for a tissue, and finding nothing. He slid one underneath the slight gap between the glass and the floor and she blinked, smiling gratefully at him, still tearful.

"Because I can never begin to apologise enough. But I can try and stop the nightmares for you."

He jolted back in his seat, staring at her. "How the hell do you know that?"

She gave him a small smile. "I know these things. The fact is that I'm destined to remain in a cell for the rest of my life, but you shouldn't have to remember or think or wonder, what if? What if you'd turned back for me that day after the tsunami?"

"You would never have lost your brother to the darkness inside his head, and my brother would be having to deal with the memories and nightmares he does. So really, yes, I can blame myself."

"No." She whispered. "No, don't blame yourself. I'm to blame. You saved so many other lives that day that would have been lost if you'd stopped. We knew there'd been an earthquake but we set out on our boat anyway. It was our fault in the first place for being out there. I was young back then, just eighteen."

Virgil tried not to think of Alan, just seventeen. What would happen if they were all killed in a tsunami, and it was someone else who was International Rescue? He didn't want to think about it.

"I grew up needing to blame someone in my grief. And you saw me in the water and you had to make a decision. You made the right call. I just didn't know that at the time. What was I meant to do then? I had no living relatives, no one really knew I existed. I had no money. I crossed the border when I was picked up on a boat. In the end I reached Russia. I used to win all the sports competitions at school, so I trained to be an assassin. There was money in it. And then I tracked my brother down."

"You wanted us dead."

"Deep down, if I'm truthful with myself, no. I didn't. When I held my gun to your brother, before Thunderbird 3 blocked my shot, I realised that I could never have killed him. I let myself get arrested. I am sick of the games, the killing, the shadows. And I've made sure that you experience them too, something which I'm sorry for. I never wanted to, in truth. So don't worry now, because I forgive you. I forgave you the day I began my training. I just…wanted you to know that."

"You want me to help you escape?"

"I don't know." She allowed the tears to flow freely, pressing her hands against the glass.

"How am I meant to forgive you, or help you knowing that Gordon's facing the same nightmares? That we all are?" He pointed out, and she shrugged.

"I don't know. But you know what the right thing is to do."

Virgil stood up as the officer returned. "Time's up."

The Assassin cast him one last heartbroken look as she was led away and Virgil found himself pacing up and down in the tiny room. Solaris asked him if he was okay. He shrugged. Forgot she couldn't see him again.

Gordon had to be the one to make the decision. And yet how the hell was he expected to ask that of his brother? Knowing the fear and the dark memories the aquanaut had been forced to relive on the sub.

"You're expected back on Tracy Island in five hours, and John is attempting to call you." Solaris told him as he opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.

"Decline." He ordered and sat down, burying his head in his hands. "Now what do I do Solaris?"

"I am an AI, I can't really advise you."

"You're my friend and I'm asking you." He told her. There was a pause before she replied, her voice clear as she spoke to him.

"I think you already know what the right choice is."

* * *

_**Well, before you all start with the threats and get furious at me, I'm sorry okay? I just prefer this version of the story. :)**_

_**Please, please review? We didn't get any reviews last time I updated, so review now? **_

_**Kat x**_


	24. Chapter 24

_**Well, no one has reviewed for the last three chapters so this is very short. This is also the last part of the story, so thank you if you've read this from the beginning. Thanks for your time even if you are too shy to review, like me.**_

* * *

"And then I just turned Thunderbird 3 around, like this…_zoooom_." Alan demonstrated his flying manoeuvres with his hand. "Then the meteorite's coming at me from the left, and I just cut the power and drop below it, catching the station in the pod bay, like this…_woosh_." He dropped his fork on his plate as he used his second hand.

Alan and Scott had been called out earlier to a research station of NASA's which had been caught in a meteorite shower and only just returned a few hours before, just in time for dinner. Given the two were bottomless pits when it came to food: that was probably a good thing.

They were currently sitting around the table, still eating. Gordon was watching his younger brother retell the rescue with the help of some elaborate hand actions with a grin, laughing as Alan nearly fell off his chair.

John was watching them amusement, sat on his chair up on '5, but visible by the holographic projector. Every now and then EOS would alert him to a progress update on certain rescue attempts across the globe that hadn't needed IR's help yet but could do if the situation got any worse.

"You okay?" Virgil jumped, glancing over his shoulder to where Scott was standing in the doorway to the balcony where Virgil had been sketching for the past half an hour.

"Yeah, why?" He replied at last, swapping to a 4B pencil instead of 2B to add in the shadows under the palm trees on the beach. He dropped the 2B and cursed. Scott handed it to him, still frowning.

"If you're sure, then that's okay. She didn't say anything bad to you then?"

He cast a rueful grin out at the ocean, where the sun was setting and slowly tinting the blue of the sea to a deeper dark indigo. A few stars were appearing above the horizon. John would have been able to name them all within a minute.

"No. No, she asked me to forgive her."

Scott's expression darkened. "And did you?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"Yeah, unfortunately I do. Don't take a risk Virg. Play with fire and you get burnt." He shrugged, glancing down at the sketch. "That's awesome by the way. Now I'm going to get more food before Alan scoffs it all. You coming?"

"Nah, I'm good here. I want to visit the sketch before the sun sets."

"Fair enough," Scott replied, disappearing indoors. Virgil groaned, tossing the sketchpad on to the chair next to him and tapping his watch.

"Solaris?"

"I'm here," She confirmed.

"Let me know when Gordon goes down to the beach tonight, I need to speak to him. You know why," He told her. There was a buzz of his watch to confirm she had heard him and had agreed. He picked up the sketchpad again and continued drawing.

* * *

The waves were lapping at the beach, where there was still a lot of debris scattered everywhere from the hurricane and storm-surge. Gordon had to dodge some branches, and jumped over some of the wood, to the opposite end of the beach, where he sat down on top of the boulders and watched the ocean with narrowed eyes. In some weird sense, he felt betrayed by the sea.

Someone was watching him. He could feel eyes. He turned around and came face to face with Virgil who held up his hands in the universal peace gesture.

"I need to talk to you."

"So does everyone." Gordon told him, turning back to the waves. There was a pebble by his foot and he skimmed it across the surface of the water, watching as it bounced for a while before sinking under the darkness. Alan was better at skimming.

"No, seriously Gordon." Virgil sat next to him and watched the surface of the water. It was getting dark now. The tree frogs were waking up.

He sighed. "What's wrong?"

"I went to see her. The Assassin. And I hate myself for understanding her, and for being able to forgive her."

He cast his brother a look. "Obviously. You're incapable of hating anyone. Probably the reason you're the one who managed to keep a girlfriend and be in IR whilst keeping the two secret for six months. Till she broke up with you."

Virgil glared at him pointedly and he dropped the teasing. "What, you think I should be angry at you? Okay then."

"Gordy, please for crying out loud, be serious. She's…changed."

"You're going to get her out. Give her a new identity with Natasha's help. Make her an agent?"

Virgil didn't reply, skimming another pebble, but the awkward silence spoke volumes. Gordon didn't reply, frowning at darkening skies. "You need me to forgive her?"

"Yes. Or I don't know what the hell I'm meant to do."

"Fair enough. She's not the one who causes the nightmares. That's the ocean, and how close I came to drowning for the third time in my life." He shrugged. "Free her. But I'm coming too."

Virgil grinned. "Obviously. I need my co-pilot there to help."

Gordon laughed. "Yeah, you'd probably set off the alarm without me."

* * *

It was dark when she awoke. She knew instantly there was something wrong when she couldn't see the all too familiar officer nearby. She leapt to her feet, light and silent, hiding behind the door and then freezing, recognising the figure she came face to face with.

She went to sob, or hug him, or hysterically cry thanks, but he shook his head. The other guy, from the sub, appeared, holding a small version of an EMP which had disrupted the systems, allowing the locked door to slide open.

"Stay very quiet and follow me," Virgil told her quietly, whispering in her ear. Sliding on the hoodie the other guy, Gordon she thought she remembered his name was, passed her, she smiled her thanks and continued after them.

"Silence is my speciality," She replied in a hushed whisper. The warm green glow from the glow-sticks he used to illuminate the corridor was strangely comforting. There was a small car waiting outside, where a tall, blond and strikingly beautiful woman was standing, waiting.

"I'm Natasha," She spoke, and gestured to the car. "Get in."

The Assassin didn't argue, curling up on the back seat next to Virgil, and feeling exhaustion wash over her. She hadn't meant to fall asleep on his shoulder, but when the car stopped, she jolted awake with a start. He didn't complain, watching her with something akin to a smile.

Gordon was watching something on his tablet, yellow earphones glowing slightly in the darkness as the car reached its destination. He switched it off and sat up, reaching across to hand her a backpack.

"Clothes, a new passport, new ID of everything actually, and money. Oh, and a phone. And makeup just because you're a girl, and that's as far as my knowledge of girls stretches. That's only because of younger brother's girlfriend."

She laughed at that, and smiled at him. "Thank you. I just…want you to know…"

"Chillax, we're good. You have changed, Virg was right. You fell asleep in the car, which means you trust us. Therefore I figure I can trust you."

"Thank you." He nodded, and turned back to Natasha, speaking in a hushed whisper.

Virgil was leaning against the side of the car. She turned to him and smiled, opening her passport. "So my new name is Ebony Webster?"

"Ebony Webster, best friends with Natasha, and as you are a model. You're going straight to the top. Natasha's in charge. We're dying your hair blond, and you can grow it long and wavy, and then wear different clothes. Feminine clothes." He looked a touch embarrassed.

She looked around her. "Where are we?"

"Oh, right. That's your apartment, over-looking the beach. We're in Florida."

It was a beautiful view. She forgot she was the Assassin, made herself forget everything. From now on she was Ebony, and she could let herself love again.

Virgil turned his back, heading over to Natasha and Gordon whilst she changed into the dress, and touched up her makeup. She crossed over to him, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"So this is where we say goodbye?"

He frowned. "Not necessarily. This is just the beginning for you." He smiled, adding: "Ebony."

Ebony laughed, shaking her head. "I think I'd like that. Do you have to go now?"

Virgil nodded to the rising sun. "Yes. Saving the world beckons me. Gordon's already headed back. Natasha's just finishing up your apartment."

Ebony only just realised they were alone and glanced down. "Thank you Virgil."

"Hey, we can all move on now." He went to walk away, heading back to his aircraft, the Thunderbird which waited behind a group of trees. Ebony went to turn back to her flat, before pausing and running after him.

"Wait!" She called.

"What's wrong?"

She kissed him, smiling, before turning and walking away. It was a new beginning and she was allowed to love again. Even if it was the person whom she'd caused the most hurt to originally that she fell for.

The sun rose and she closed the door to the flat. Thunderbird 2 disappeared over the horizon.

* * *

**_I don't know about that ending, but it wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. Sorry if you now feel like casually stabbing me! Please don't, I have an entire RS essay to finish writing before Monday as I've been ill with this virus which somehow effected my spine as I couldn't walk properly and had really high temperatures, which are never good for writers. _**

**_Anyway, I can't believe this over, and you'll be getting one-shots from me often, but I want to finish writing my next multi-chapter story before I publish so you will get regular updates. I must be irritating Hunter, who is still patiently waiting for me to finish Circle of Fire! Sorry!_**

**_Kat x_**

**_PS Review?_**


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